


Fate - Laoch Gan Finsceal

by benit149



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-04 15:33:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 73,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14596119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benit149/pseuds/benit149
Summary: Connla story #1. The revival of an Innocent Hero almost lost to time and obscurity, brought upon by the guilt-ridden wish of another hero fallen from grace. The wish bringer becomes the 'villain' for a story so that the innocent one can become the 'hero'. Upon this wish, a Singularity has been created. Go forth, Innocent Hero, and free the Fallen Hero from the guilt that can destroy worlds.





	1. Innocent Hero

**FATE/LAOCH GAN FINSCEAL**

**“Hero Without Legend”**

**Chapter 1: Innocent Hero**

“Heed my words. My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny. If you heed the Grail's call and obey my will and reason, then answer my summoning! I hereby swear that I shall be all the good in the world, that I shall defeat all evil in the world. You seven heavens, clad in the three great words of power, come forth from the circle of binding. Guardian of the Scales!”

Fujimaru Ritsuka chanted the words for a summoning ritual to call upon a new Servant. The bluish magic circle beneath her feet shone bright, then numerous dots swirled around so quickly that it resembled a solid circle of light. Three more rings encompassed the area, then converged in a brilliant flash. She closed her eyes tightly and waited for the right time to open them. The new person who emerged from the magic field was bound to the Command Spell etched upon her hand, and would function as a Servant in missions to correct Singularities in humanity’s timeline.

Ritsuka had long since ceased to be surprised by the kinds of Servants who emerged. Their personalities, classes, and abilities were as varied as there were humans on the planet. The Servant who stood before her was a female at around seven or eight years old. Despite her young age, her firm brown eyes demonstrated maturity beyond her years, yet also a cute precociousness that inspired her to explore the world around her. She had short purple hair tied into a low ponytail, and she wore a white shawl and skirt over a breastplate and mint green tights that covered her whole body. She had heavy leather gloves and boots on, and she carried a leaf-bladed polearm that was taller than she was.

“Lancer-class Servant, ready to fight for you, Master,” the girl announced her arrival.

“A Lancer this time, hm?” Ritsuka murmured. “What’s your True Name?”

“It’s…” The child looked unusually apprehensive, then looked away in shame. “I apologize. For certain reasons, I cannot say who I am.”

“What are you talking about?” Mash Kyrielight, Ritsuka’s partner and a Demi-Servant, objected. “If Ritsuka doesn’t know who you are, how is she supposed to give you proper orders in combat?”

“I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience…”

A man in traditional doctor’s attire had witnessed the summoning and approached the unidentified Lancer. He leaned over her to examine if anything was wrong, then said, “It looks like we have our work cut out with this one.”

“What do you mean, Dr. Roman?” Mash asked.

“She certainly has a Saint Graph, but the details surrounding her True Name are heavily concealed by a threefold geas. Even if we had a Ruler-class Servant utilizing True Name Discernment, the chances of her name being given to them is 50/50. No, I’d wager that the geasa actually constitute her identity in the first place – that she _has_ to hide any indentifying factors, or else she will break the vows of her geas and be subjected to a curse.”

“So there’s no way to remove them?”

“No. To remove the geasa from this Heroic Spirit would be equivalent to taking away Excalibur from King Arthur, or nullifying Medusa’s ability to turn people into stone.”

“Who would do such a thing to her?” Ritsuka wondered, glancing over at Lancer as she quietly listened to their conversation. “There has to be a way to get around this.”

“Well…” Roman scratched his chin. “If we understood the nature of the conditions she is restricted by, we could start to draw some reasonable conclusions about which Hidden Attribute she belongs to, and then narrow it down from there.”

Lancer sighed and murmured, “I’m sorry…”

“No, no, it’s not your fault,” the doctor smiled. “We have met plenty of mysterious Heroic Spirits and Counter Guardians in our time. We even didn’t know which Heroic Spirit was inside Mash’s body for a while.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Mash glanced away bashfully.

“We just have to investigate like always and find the answer to our questions about you. First things first, I’d like to have your Master take you out for some field work. We can analyze your combat abilities and go from there.”

“Certainly,” Lancer agreed.

“Say, Doctor,” Ritsuka said, “what would happen if I used a Command Spell to force her to tell me her True Name?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. It might lead to a contradiction,” Roman frowned. “We don’t know if the Command Spell or the geas would take higher priority, or if they would be equal in authority. Forcing her to contradict her vow could prove to be dangerous for stabilizing her form. If it comes to it, she might be forced to sever ties with you and return to the Throne of Heroes.”

“I guess so.”

“Geez… Things would be so much easier if there were any other Heroic Spirits who personally knew Lancer during her lifetime.”

“This coming after you say you’ll put your all into researching her True Name.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with a little wishful thinking, eh? Besides, this could actually be helpful. If we don’t know who she is, then the enemy won’t either.”

“That’s true. But it’ll be hard for me to issue commands to her.”

“Don’t worry,” Lancer assured. “I might not look like it, but I’m instructed in many aspects of war, though I’ve only truly mastered the lance and the close-range combat it requires. You’ll find me surprisingly flexible in my duties.”

Ritsuka scratched her head, then smiled and said, “Can’t be helped then. I’ll be expecting a lot out of you, Lancer.”

“Yes, Master.”

The small girl followed Ritsuka out of the chamber where the Guardian Heroic Summoning System ‘FATE’ was located. She wouldn’t have any problems following orders, although she couldn’t help feeling excited and anxious about the battles ahead of her. As Roman, Mash and Ritsuka spoke amongst each other, Lancer’s mind drifted back to the past when she was still alive.

* * *

Connla.

This was the True Name that Lancer forbade herself from saying.

The original mythology stated that Connla was the only son of the Hound of Ulster Cuchulainn and the Scottish warrior woman Aife, purportedly the sister of the Witch of Dun Scaith Scathach, although this was never verified. In the Servant summoning rituals currently utilized by the Magi however, there was no rule stating that a Servant was forced to be summoned as their originating gender. Perhaps facts surrounding a Heroic Spirit were distorted or lost to time. Maybe a spirit from an alternate universe could be called upon. Or maybe it was just a Master’s preference to summon a particular hero with a particular gender. Sometimes even Servants themselves changed their gender and/or appearance to suit themselves.

No matter what the reason was, Connla emerged in this world as a girl. Being the scion of two warriors, and possibly the niece of another (again, not proven) destined her to be trained as such. Cuchulainn was absent during her childhood, leaving Aife to care for Connla and fashion her into a young lady capable of combat and strategy. It didn’t mean that Cuchulainn abandoned her though. Upon leaving Aife pregnant but before returning to Ulster, he told her to give Connla a ring he provided so he could identify her when it was her time to join his side.

Seven years later, she was old enough to wear the ring on her right thumb and travel by boat southwest from Alpi, Scotland to Ulster, in the green country of Erin before it was renamed Ireland. Before Aife gave the blessing for her journey, she implanted three geasa upon her daughter.

“Abide by these three vows, and you will be unstoppable,” Aife promised her.

In Irish folklore, a geas was an obligation or prohibition magically imposed on a person. A person could place these sigils upon themselves, or they could be given to others to ensure obedience, or to give the bearer an advantage at the cost of never breaking their oath. It was typical for people to have one, maybe two throughout their lifetimes, but three was considered to be extremely harsh. If handled correctly, a geas would be a great benefit. If not, then the consequences would prove to be deadly. Aife immediately imposed three upon Connla because she didn’t want her daughter to go marching into the war-torn depths of Ireland without protection.

At least, that was what she claimed.

With her destination set, Connla set out on a humble row boat with golden oars and sailed her way to northeastern Ulster. From her home in Alpi, she needed to make her way across the North Channel by sea, then by foot to Eamhain Macha in Armagh County where she could join the boy-troop of the Red Branch Army and receive further training. Excitement fluttered in her heart at the anticipation of finally being able to meet her long-lost father. What would he think of her as a warrior? How would his comrades see her? What would they expect out of her in the coming years? Connla had to control these feelings so they wouldn’t incite fear within her. Furthermore, one of the geasa she bore prevented her from turning back on her journey, so abandoning her trip was out of the question.

The boat eventually reached the shores of Antrim County, the area closest to the North Channel separating Ireland from Scotland. There was no stormy weather for her to worry about, so the nautical leg of her journey went off without any problems. She disembarked and used a primitive compass to get her bearings straight.

“Mother said that Eamhain Macha is further southwest from here…” Connla murmured to herself.

She ventured forth into the heartland of Ulster, hunting wild animals and picking berries for sustenance. It wouldn’t be until she reached the far northeast border of Antrim and Armagh that she would encounter trouble. She needed to resupply her canteen of water, so she filled it at Lough Neagh before taking some stones and setting them in a slingshot. She whirled the sling about in her hand and hurled the rocks at a bird flying above. It hit the target and caused the stunned bird to fall to the ground. Connla wasn’t really trying to hunt the bird – she just needed to make sure her skills hadn’t gone rusty. She took the bird upon her lap and nursed it back to health, allowing it to fly away.

At the same time, King Concobhar Mac Nessa and his army were in the middle of training some of the youth members. It wasn’t long before attention was drawn to this mysterious girl’s feats of shooting down birds with nothing more than rocks. Concobhar saw this and asked Conall, one of his finest soldiers, “Who is that child?”

“She does not appear to be one of my trainees, sire,” Conall replied.

“Such a fine display of skill cannot go ignored. You must make contact and see to it that she is enlisted within my army. If Connacht were to hear of a lone warrior free of allegiance, they would undoubtedly attempt to snatch her away.”

“Undoubtedly. I shall see to her at once.”

Conall headed over to Lough Neagh and approached Connla, who had seen him coming by now. He bellowed, “Greetings, young lady! I could not help but notice the pranks you have been playing upon the birds circling this lake.”

“I apologize,” Connla said. “Have I caused unwanted duress?”

“Nay, on the contrary! I’m actually impressed with your display. I am Conall Cernach of the Red Branch Army of Ulster. My king has witnessed your capabilities and has sent me as his envoy to ask for your enlistment in our forces.”

“I see. I was on my way to Eamhain Macha to see about joining this nation’s army.”

“Most fortuitous our meeting has been then! ‘Tis the very definition of serendipity! Then, might I ask for your name, young one?”

Connla’s attitude suddenly changed as she let out a small gasp. She grew pensive and kept her lips tightly sealed.

“What troubles you?” Conall asked. “You must know that it is tradition to introduce yourself to the king first.”

“…”

“Why do you hesitate? Stating your identity is the most basic code of honor among knights.”

“…”

He grunted and reached for his sword. “Do you refuse to answer? I do not believe you are an insolent rascal like most youths your age, but I cannot let your rudeness go unexcused. I shall teach you the meaning of respecting your elders!”

Now two of Connla’s geasa were being put to the test. Conall had issued a challenge, and she was obligated to answer with equal force while remaining silent about her name. She brandished a long spear with a blade shaped like a leaf at the end, deftly twirling it upon her palm as she got into her fighting stance. Concobhar saw this and wondered, “What is the meaning of this? Has the child turned down our gesture of welcome?”

“Not to worry, sire,” a charioteer named Laeg assured. “She is naught but a youth facing Conall’s might. I am certain he won’t push her to the brink, but he will nonetheless subdue her in short order.”

No sooner had Laeg said that, Conall and Connla immediately rushed at each other and clashed their weapons in a tumult of movement and sparks. Although Conall fought valiantly, he was astounded to realize that he was no match for this fleet-footed stranger. Just as quickly as the battle began, Connla already put ample pressure on Conall just to defend against her swift movements and powerful blows. Whenever he had an opening to attack, she would simply vault aside and exploit an exposed weakness.

It wasn’t long before Conall skidded across the rocky Lough Neagh coast and fell to one knee, completely exhausted. Connla maintained her fighting stance, but her opponent raised his arm and exclaimed, “Pray, cease your advances! I shall resign from this contest!”

She remained still and stared at him, but made no movement to strike again. Yes, she had to respond to any challenge she was given, but there was no stipulation saying she had to kill anyone. All she needed to do was to subdue her opponents until they gave up, like Conall did just now. Concobhar couldn’t let such unexplained insolence go unpunished however, so he commanded to Laeg, “Charioteer! Take our best into battle and bring that child to me!”

“At once!” Laeg responded and took a small battalion of about 10 warriors to meet Connla. The boys who were training remained behind to watch their superiors, puzzled as to how a mysterious girl could best one of their teachers.

Laeg and his men surrounded Connla in a circle. He declared, “Do not bring my king any more trouble, young lady. Your resistance is the summit of foolishness, exercising violence upon us merely because you will not introduce yourself. Have you no explanation for your behavior?”

Connla certainly wanted to tell him the truth, but she wasn’t sure if it meant disobeying her mother. Her expression was clearly pensive as she thought about the geasa.

_I don’t understand, Mother. I am expected to be a part of this kingdom’s army, yet I cannot tell anyone who I am. How am I supposed to become comrades with these people if they are not allowed to know my name? How can I tell them otherwise? Are they supposed to treat me as a nameless stranger?_

“You look troubled,” Laeg said. “Come, sheathe your lance and tell me what is the matter. I am sure King Concobhar will overlook your transgression if you just make yourself acquainted with him and apologize for subduing Conall.”

“I… can’t…”

“Why not?”

“…”

He was growing frustrated with her hesitation, and he announced, “My apologies, but my liege demands an explanation. If you are not willing to tell us here and now, then let it be known that we have been ordered to bring you in by force, if necessary.”

“I suppose there’s no choice then,” Connla murmured. As soon as she said that, she dashed straight for Laeg. He raised his shield, expecting to block a weak attack. A startled grunt escaped his throat when he felt a much more powerful force pushing his planted feet back. As he lost his balance, she used this opportunity to vault over him with an elegant flip and break herself free of the encirclement. Her short legs effortlessly pattered across the rocky shores while the men took chase.

“Halt! You shall not escape!” Laeg shouted.

However, Connla wasn’t actually trying to flee. She turned back in a wide berth and passed by her pursuers to run in the opposite direction. They slid on their heels and chased her again. She leapt from boulder to boulder before crouching upon a rock and waiting for them to catch up. Once they were within distance, she bounced off like a cat and fled once again. This continued for several more minutes until the men were nearly out of breath. The sight would have been comical if they weren’t trying to fulfill a mission that their king gave them.

Laeg leaned forward and panted profusely, then exclaimed, “Damnation, lass! Are you mocking us!?”

“What sort of youth possesses enough stamina to outpace an entire platoon!?” one of the men shouted in frustration. “It’s like she isn’t human!”

“Nay, friend. She is as flesh and blood as any of us are. She must be in possession of a potent geas.”

Once Connla saw that the men were starting to get weary from chasing her around, she bore her spear and charged at one soldier. He raised his shield in a panic to block her swings several times, but he lost his balance and fell backwards. His comrades attempted to ambush her, so she cartwheeled aside on one hand and swung her polearm at their feet, knocking at least two onto their buttocks pathetically. Laeg was startled to see her go on the offensive after running around so much. When he thought about it for a moment though, he exclaimed, “Blasphemy! So that was her tactic! Men, stay on your guard! She’s trying to exhaust us before attacking!”

“For Ulster!” another man screamed as he swung his sword over Connla’s head. She parried with a strong sweeping upward blow that sent his blade flying back. Then she jabbed his midsection with the non-blade end of her spear to put him out of commission.

“HRAAAGH!” Laeg let out a thunderous battle cry and swung his axe at the ground she was standing upon. She leapt back to narrowly avoid being cleaved into two, then stepped on the implanted weapon and jumped directly above him. He glanced up in shock right as she descended and stomped her feet on his face, smacking him onto his back while she whirled above the stunned fighters.

King Concobhar observed the battle with utter stupefaction. The whole thing was so pointless, yet the child’s skill both enthralled and horrified him. He was ashamed to admit it, but his best men were not going to last long. He had no idea what Connla was going to do after she won either. Would she turn her blade against him, or any of the boy-troop members for that matter? What would happen if the conniving Queen Medb of Connacht learned about the girl’s existence? He didn’t want to imagine the consequences.

“I have no choice,” Concobhar groaned to himself, then turned to one of his men and ordered, “Summon Cuchulainn and have him subjugate the girl!”

“Cuchulainn!?” was the surprised response. “You are asking for our strongest man to face such an insignificant threat!?”

“Insignificant, you say!? This is the honor of Ulster at stake here! If those wretches of Connacht were to hear of our mightiest being bested by a nameless youth, we will never know the end of shame!”

“Of course! Right away, sire!”

* * *

Ireland’s Child of Light, Cuchulainn, wasn’t too far away from the training grounds. He was sitting beneath a grand tree with his beloved wife Emer, a beautiful and fair princess whom he insisted upon marrying despite protests from her father. He had undertaken many feats of heroism primarily to spread his name across the land, or else Emer would never recognize a nameless warrior as her husband. Today was a quiet day that he wanted to enjoy with the treasured woman he worked so hard to win over.

“The wind… It feels nice,” Emer soothed and tousled her hair.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “As much as I’d like to train the boys, skipping a day or two won’t hurt.”

“Lough Neagh is practically dazzling at this time of the day. I’d like to take a swim when we get the chance.”

“Why not right now?” Cuchulainn smirked and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, gently sliding aside her top to expose her smooth skin.

“Oh, but with so many people around? I fear I’d embarrass myself to no end.”

“Then after the evening feast?”

“That sounds lovely.”

While they were busy flirting with each other, the soldier that Concobhar sent came running up the hill panting heavily. He exclaimed, “My apologies for the disruption, but our king requests your aid at once!”

“Geez,” the hero scratched his messy blue hair in annoyance. “Never a dull day in Ulster, is it?”

“Did I interrupt something, Lady Emer?” the man glanced at her in confusion.

“Please don’t mind me. Whatever is going on out there?” she asked.

He quickly explained the situation to the couple. Cuchulainn muttered, “A little kid? Beating up Laeg and Conall?”

“She doesn’t appear to be more than seven or eight years old, but she’s fighting with the prowess of an experienced adult.”

“Does she have a reason for being so rambunctious?”

“Not that we can tell. She just became aggressive once we started asking for her name.”

“Can’t be helped then. If it’s the king’s order, then I can’t refuse.”

As Cuchulainn twirled the long red spear Gae Bolg in his hand, Emer suddenly got up and grabbed his arm, uttering, “Wait a moment!”

“Hm? What’s the matter?”

“Cu… I have an ominous feeling about this.”

“That’s unusual. It’s not like you to try and stop me.”

“I know, and I will not this time either. Yet, I cannot explain it, but it’s like someone is gripping my heart and will not let go…”

“There’s no need to overreact. It’s probably just one of the boys misbehaving. I’ll just take care of this little problem and come right back.”

“Do be careful.”

Cuchulainn nodded and ran towards the lake with the soldier. Emer remained there, rubbing her hands together in anxiety as she tried to understand why she was so distressed.

_I have complete confidence in Cu’s ability to handle any opposition. No, I don’t think I’m worried for him. It’s something about that strange child…_

She thought about it some more, going back to the stories that he told her of the time when he trained in the Land of the Shadows under the Gatekeeper of Death herself. It had been around that period when Cuchulainn also battled against another warrior queen and defeated her. Emer wasn’t certain of the details, but he did confide to her that he had spared his opponent’s life because he found her appealing, and that they had courted for a brief time. He promised her countless times that his heart truly belonged to Emer, and that this affair was nothing more than a passing fancy of his.

_If I remember right, it was about seven or eight years ago when he returned from Alpi and took my hand in marriage. Wait…_

It was starting to come together for her.

_That’s the same age as that child, isn’t it!?_

She didn’t have concrete proof, but she couldn’t ignore this dreaded sensation either. The dates definitely fit, and if the unknown girl had come east from Scotland rather than west from Connacht… She let out a horrified gasp and hurried toward the lake herself.

_I have to stop Cu!_

* * *

“Gwagh!?” Laeg howled as he body was sent tumbling across the grass like a leaf in stormy winds. He laid upon his side and snarled at Connla. She stood above the fallen warriors with the same deadpan expression. She had no intent of lambasting their skills, for she knew that the two mentors in her life were beyond human strength and skill, and they expected her to be the same. She didn’t want to be too difficult for these soldiers, so she just waited for them to either get up and try fighting her again, or to simply surrender.

“Gah… We just need to buy time…” the charioteer grunted as he got to his knee.

“What are we to do?” one of the soldiers asked worriedly. “She doesn’t mean us grave harm, but we cannot discipline her like this.”

“What an embarrassment. If only there was some way of communicating with her…”

Connla held her spear before her and said, “My apologies, men of Ulster. I do not wish to cause further trouble.”

“Then what are you after, young lady? Are you intent on seeking asylum within Connacht?”

“No. I already told the previous gentleman; my journey takes me to Eamhain Macha so that I may join the boy-troop of the Red Branch Army.”

“Then there is no need for you to go further! So long as you introduce yourself to our king and apologize for your behavior, he will surely welcome you with open arms!”

“And therein lies the problem.”

“By the horn of Curruid! Will you explain yourself already, girl!? I am hopelessly confounded by your actions!” Laeg shouted in frustration.

“A thousand apologies, good sir. I really wish I could…” Connla frowned and looked away.

He thought about her unusual battle prowess and his deduction that she must’ve possessed a geas to give her that strength. He narrowed his eyes and asked, “Could it be that… you are cursed with a vow that you must never break?”

They stared at each other in silence. The tension was thick enough to slice through. He wanted to hear her confirmation, but she wouldn’t say anything to either acknowledge or deny his suggestion. This uneasy stillness continued for another good minute. All they could hear was the breeze swaying the leaves in the trees.

That was when they heard a new male’s voice echo through the area, booming with the command of a god:

“What do we have here!? I heard that a ruckus was going on!”


	2. Meeting of the Hounds

**FATE/LAOCH GAN FINSCEAL**

**“Hero Without Legend”**

**Chapter 2: Meeting of the Hounds**

Connla and the defeated Red Branch soldiers looked up at the hill looming over them where the new male’s voice came from. There stood a man who was six feet tall with long blue hair tied back into a thin ponytail. He wore a form-fitting ultramarine bodysuit covered in runic patterns, which was very similar to Connla’s mint green suit. Resting over his shoulders was a two meter long red javelin covered in jagged creases. His eyes were a bright ruby red that commanded the respect of lesser men. He certainly gave off the aura that he was like a god given flesh. That wasn’t a lie either, for this man was none other than the Child of Light, son of the Sun God Lugh and the princess of Ulster Deichtine; Setanta, popularly known as Cuchulainn, or _Culann’s Savage Dog_.

“You finally came, friend,” Laeg said. “It is shameful to admit it, but we are at a loss here.”

“Hoh? Well, well. Dealing with Connacht’s invading forces is one thing, but if we have any intruders coming from Scotland, it’ll be quite troublesome for me. Best to nip this little problem while it’s still a bud.”

Cuchulainn leapt high and twisted his body about in a display of finesse and flexibility. He landed hard, then stood back up and gazed upon the scene. He wasn’t too impressed with seeing Conall and several of his other comrades fallen to their knees, but asked regardless, “So, who’s responsible for this fracas?”

“Over there,” Conall pointed over at Connla. The Ulster hero stared at the girl for a moment, then raised his eyebrow and frowned hard. He wasn’t sure if his friend was pulling some kind of twisted joke on him.

Conall continued, “Lord Concobhar and I found her shooting down birds with a sling of stones. He was impressed enough to ask me to approach, believing she would be a good candidate as a soldier for our boy-troop. But when I asked for her name and lineage, she remained silent and attacked me without warning. She likewise has worn down Laeg and the others.”

“She still hasn’t said anything either,” another man uttered. “We have no idea what to do with her.”

“Interesting,” Cuchulainn muttered, unable to resist smiling. He raised his hand and commanded, “All of you leave here at once. I will deal with this myself.”

“But-!”

_“If you don’t want to be killed, then leave already, dammit!”_

The men gasped at the hero’s fierce bark and retreated from the immediate area without further argument. Concobhar ordered everyone to stay far away from the lakeside so the two fighters would have enough room to battle without endangering them. With the spectators out of the way, Cuchulainn could take his time ‘interrogating’ Connla, though he didn’t anticipate it would take too long.

“All right then,” he announced, “now that I have the floor, don’t expect for things go your way anymore, missy.”

“Who might you be?” Connla asked.

“Come on now. If you’re not going to introduce yourself, why should I? It’s not nice when only one party is exercising good manners.”

“I suppose. If you’re the only one here, then it must mean you have considerable skill to face me.”

“Not gonna lie about that. Compared to dealing with that sass Medb and her army of cheating flunkies, taking on an opponent in an honest match will literally be child’s play to me. Well, I might say that, but-“

Cuchulainn twirled Gae Bolg and pointed it at her. “I’m not exactly thrilled at the prospect of dueling a small girl like yourself. I will warn you beforehand; when I am in a serious battle, there is nothing that will stop me short of defeat on either of our parts.”

Connla nodded lightly. “Duly noted.”

“You’re not going to back down?”

“I must respond to any challenge with equal force.”

“That is the tone of someone with no regrets. Just what I like to hear. Then, prepare yourself!”

Both of them got into their combat stances and stared at each other with passionate intensity. However, in his heart of hearts, Cuchulainn absolutely did _not_ want to do this. In his mind, while Connla was a talented warrior, she was still too inexperienced to be considered truly dangerous. He strongly believed that her strange behavior stemmed from something outside of her control, so he couldn’t understand her devotion to maintaining her silence when conversation was expected of her. The only thing he could do was overpower her and get her to talk, hoping they could come to a peaceful resolution after throwing some blows around.

Connla got tired of waiting and declared, “What’s the matter? If you won’t move first, then I will.”

She reared her legs to perform a lightning-fast jump towards Cuchulainn, forcing him to parry her spear swing. He was astonished by how fast she was moving. Already he could understand why his comrades were having such a hard time fighting this kid. He roared in retaliation and thrust at her multiple times. To his amazement, she saw through each of his stabs and countered all of them in rapid succession. She got in one powerful swing that sent him skidding across the ground, and he twirled on his foot to regain proper momentum. Cuchulainn dashed about side-to-side to try and confuse her, yet she remained steady. He stabbed straight at her head, but the short-statured girl easily ducked beneath it and swiped straight up at the outstretched Gae Bolg, knocking both it and his arm upward.

Now Connla had the offensive as she charged at him without hesitation, striking his spear over and over again. He was forced backwards toward the lake where he maintained a stronger defense, refusing to allow her to take the battle wherever she pleased. She delicately spun like a top, gaining the power she needed to swing her leaf-bladed polearm at his head. He blocked it with Gae Bolg, having to muster more might than he expected to resist it. He scowled at her with an angry look in his eyes as he pushed her back and leapt to give himself some distance.

“Are you some kind of monster?” Cuchulainn demanded. “Not since pushing back Connacht’s forces and slaying Ferdiad have I been challenged so brutally. Furthermore…”

He narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t like your expression.”

During their intense battle, while Cuchulainn demonstrated the battle frenzy that he was infamous for, Connla didn’t show any emotion. She was as calm as if she were taking a stroll on a sunny day through the fields of Erin. It felt like an insult to him – it told him that she either wasn’t exerting herself enough and considered him weak, or she was trying to hide the pain she was feeling in her young body from tolerating forces that would break adults apart. If there were two things Cuchulainn despised, they would be dishonesty and cowardice. Connla clearly wasn’t a coward, but her stoic expression made his blood boil from the dishonesty it showed him.

Obviously she wasn’t in the mood to chat with him. She disappeared in a greenish wind that made the nearby grass dance. He gasped and looked over to his side where she suddenly appeared and thrust her spear at his chest. He contorted his body to duck aside, narrowly avoiding death by millimeters. He likewise took a stab at her head, and she too had to concentrate on dodging. They kept trying to pierce each other like this, but neither of them were gaining an advantage over the other. Their moves were so eerily similar that they even jabbed their polearms into the ground and vaulted their bodies over so that they kicked each other’s legs at the critical moment.

_What is this?_

While Cuchulainn’s body moved about as if it had a will of its own, his mind felt like a spectator to his own event. It was this kind of mental detachment that allowed him to analyze his opponent’s moves and react accordingly. Normally his foes had skills and weapons of their own that he needed to learn on the spot. With Connla however, he felt like he was fighting a mirror of himself.

_How is this possible!? She knows the exact same moves as me!_

* * *

Back on the hill overlooking the battle, Emer came upon the tired spectators. She exclaimed to Concobhar, “Where is Cuchulainn!?”

“I have sent him to fight that troublesome girl,” he replied.

“I’m too late! I must warn him immediately!”

“Nay, Emer! You must stay back!” Laeg implored, tightly grabbing her arm before she could run towards the battlefield.

“Let me go! I must stop Cu at once!”

“Don’t be mad, woman! If you rush in there, you might wind up being killed by mistake!”

“But-!”

“That’s enough,” Concobhar commanded. “Laeg is right. To blindly charge into that dervish is suicide. There is nothing we can do except wait for a victor to emerge.”

“Oh…” Emer clenched her shirt anxiously and watched her husband.

“What is the matter?” Conall asked, patting her back. “No one is able to overcome Ulster’s greatest hero! I’m sure he would be insulted if you witnessed your lack of faith in him. He will have that stranger beaten into submission soon enough!”

“That’s not…”

She couldn’t bring herself to discuss her suspicions with the eager men. All she could do was swallow her words and observe helplessly. Her heart felt like it was pounding a million times a minute. While the others were most likely focused on their hero, Emer kept her eyes on the girl, fearing the consequences she would suffer for challenging her husband.

_Please tell us who you are, little one. If you really are Cu and Aife’s child, you must speak! Otherwise…!_

Emer clasped her hands together and prayed.

* * *

From the billowing smoke of dirt, Connla leapt out and scurried along the shore to escape Cuchulainn’s wrath. While her pace was fantastically quick, he could keep up with her thanks to his longer strides. They converged and struck their spears against each other in a deafening clash. Their bodies whirled and danced about fanatically amidst the flying sparks, but neither of them were gaining any real advantage. He thought he could wear her down due to her younger body, but she possessed far more stamina than he anticipated. Even so, some blood could be seen staining her face and clothing from muscular wounds that opened on their own, not from any injuries she sustained during the fight.

He clenched his teeth and thought, _Not good! If we keep fighting like this, she’ll destroy herself!_

Connla didn’t show any emotional sign of fatigue or agony however. She remained straight-faced so as not to give her opponent any indication of how she was feeling, and it infuriated Cuchulainn more and more the longer he looked at her vapid façade.

_“Damn it! Will you stop resisting already!?”_ he screamed. _“The longer you fight, the more your body will break down!”_

She didn’t say anything. Maybe she was scared. Or maybe she didn’t know how to converse during an intense battle. No matter what, she wouldn’t talk to him. She just devoted her energy to parrying or dodging his powerful strikes. She zipped about and leapt from rock to rock to confuse Cuchulainn. She knew that, coupled with his concern for her wellbeing, she could throw him off with rapid movements. Connla rushed by him one time to trip his leg, knocking him off-balance for just a split second. That was all she needed to leap onto a boulder and vault her body against his like a battering ram.

“Shit-!” he cursed, finding himself rocketing towards the lake. He skidded across the surface of the water as if he had turned into a pebble for some giant child’s game of skipping stone. When his momentum ran out, he crashed beneath the water in a massive splash. Meanwhile, Connla hurried toward the lake’s edge and jumped as high as she could directly over him.

As Cuchulainn resurfaced, she landed hard on his back and shoved his face underwater. He accidentally gulped some liquid down his throat, causing him to grow desperate. He summoned all of his strength to overpower the girl so he could get his head free. With a livid roar, he grabbed her shawl and hurled her over his shoulder toward the shore. With the finesse of a cat, she regained her bearings and landed on her feet, but looked up to suddenly see him making a mad dash straight for her with Gae Bolg pointing forward.

Cuchulainn’s ferocious expression caught Connla off guard momentarily. His cheeks and forehead were deeply creased with anger lines and veins that looked like they would burst, and his pure red eyes glowed with demonic fire. His clenched teeth appeared sharp, and his body moved seemingly on its own accord.

_This must be the effect of_ riastrad _that Mother told me about before,_ she thought.

It was a term known throughout the region to mean ‘battle frenzy’ or ‘warp spasm’, a sort of temporary physical disfigurement brought upon by the ecstasy of men enjoying savage death matches. This realization made her lose momentum for just a moment, but it was all he needed to force her to wildly back flip and hop about to avoid getting impaled. Luckily she was fast and perceptive enough to read his wild moves or else she would have been hacked and slashed into pieces. Feeling the torrential wind of Gae Bolg rushing past her flesh repeatedly made her heart skip each time though, and she knew she needed to break out of this right away.

Fortunately, she had just the thing. She thrust her fingers forth to conjure a symbol similar to a capitalized F in the air between them.

“Ansuz-!?” Cuchulainn yelped, recognizing the pattern.

An explosion of raging flames detonated from the symbol, engulfing him while throwing Connla backwards from the sheer force. She planted her feet against the ground so she could skid to a stop, scraping the dirt as she passed by. The fire disappeared and left behind a puff of acrid fumes, revealing her opponent to be covered in burns and wounds. Smoke billowed off his singed bodysuit to reveal a portion of his arm and chest that was covered in red tattoos.

He was absolutely livid now. His eye twitched from the frustration of having to keep his bestial craving for battle in check. He let out a visible deep breath, then got into his combat stance again with Gae Bolg.

“I honestly don’t want to do this, girl,” Cuchulainn said with a clearly forlorn look in his ruby eyes despite the seething rage he was containing. “Don’t make this hard on yourself – challenging the honor of Ulster just because you won’t say your name.”

Against a normal opponent, she wouldn’t make any sort of retort. Versus this man however, she felt it was appropriate to at least give him a good explanation.

“It’s not that I won’t say who I am,” Connla  remarked, then pulled down her shawl to show her upper chest. Emblazoned upon the flesh were three red marks similar to the Japanese _mitsudomoe_. She whispered calmly, “It’s that I _can’t_.”

His look of concern took on a new tone as he recognized the marks right away. He murmured, “I should have guessed. You possess a geas. Not just one, but three… What are the restrictions?”

“The first is that I cannot turn back from my journey. The second is that I must accept any challenge even if it means my death. The third is to never identify myself to anyone whom I meet.”

“Those are quite the conditions, girl,” Cuchulainn grumbled. “Clearly you wouldn’t be fool enough to put those geasa upon yourself before marching into Ulster, knowing that it is the rule to introduce yourself first to my king. Who placed you under such harsh rules?”

“To say that is tantamount to revealing my name,” Connla said with a stern voice. To avoid exposing her identity, she couldn’t just stop at saying her name; she had to never give any hints such as her parentage or who were directly influential within her short life. After all, one’s identity didn’t just extend to simply their direct name and personality. It also included the teachings, morals, and beliefs of those around them that would shape them into human beings.

If this were a Holy Grail War, as Roman mentioned to Ritsuka, Connla’s geas would be somewhat similar to the Presence Concealment that Assassins utilized, but radically different in that it wasn’t her physical presence that was being obfuscated, but rather her True Name. Perhaps it could be called Identity Concealment or something similar. Even a Ruler-class Servant would be hard-pressed to figure it out via True Name Discernment due to how powerful the curse was.

No matter how hard one would try to force it out of her, she wouldn’t give any clues to her opponent other than what her proficient class was, and she possessed so many skills that she could be summoned as practically any of the seven classes. To break this rule was to condemn her to the curse of the geas. In this great nation of Ireland, death was a kinder fate than being subject to the geas’ unforgiving punishment, and she would forever have to be loyal to that oath.

Cuchulainn narrowed his eyes when he realized her situation, but he wasn’t going to pity her. “Stubborn, aren’t we?”

She gave him an unusual smile. “If not placed under such constraints, however, I’m certain that you would have been the first man to know who I am. Even whilst you’re under the effects of _riastrad_ , I cannot help but admire your appearance.”

“Heh…”

Neither of them wanted to fight, but Cuchulainn had to defend the honor of Ulster from being shamed by a small child, while Connla was forced to uphold a harsh vow that she never asked for. Even so, it seemed like they were actually enjoying themselves. This wasn’t a battle over grand motivations like king, nation, love or friendship. This was just an honest-to-goodness match between warriors; a contest to determine which of them was better.

Compared to the brutal battles and scumbag devilry Cuchulainn had fared with until now, such a simple duel was entirely welcome to him. The fact that Connla’s body was deteriorating didn’t hold much bearing for him anymore. The geas would give her the power she needed to face him, so long as she maintained her silence and never backed down. Suddenly, her calm visage didn’t seem to irritate him anymore.

“All right then,” Cuchulainn said, then jumped back and hunched into a sprinter’s pose. “No more games. I’ll come at you for real now.”

Connla steeled herself, preparing for whatever he was about to do next.


	3. No One to Blame

**FATE/LAOCH GAN FINSCEAL**

**“Hero Without Legend”**

**Chapter 3: No One to Blame**

The daylight hours gradually shifted to nighttime, cloaking all of Erin in a clear dark sky dotted with countless shining stars. Regardless of the change in hours, Cuchulainn and Connla remained engaged in their intense struggle without respite. Most of the men who had been watching the battle turned in for the night, although Concobhar, Laeg, Conall and Emer remained awake the whole time to see if the outcome would be decided. Periodic bursts of sparks were all the spectators could see in the darkness however. They dared not go any closer for better visibility lest they risk being dealt a stray blow.

The duelists’ eyes were well-adjusted to the darkness already, so they could read each other’s moves as clearly as if it were a sunny day. Connla lured Cuchulainn to the lake, lithely hopping and vaulting over rocks while making sure she was ahead of him. He took chase, preferring to rush through the shallow water since he knew Connla was too short to do the same at such speeds, and she could hear the furious tempo of his splashing footsteps not too far behind her. She found a boulder large enough to support her as she whirled around and swung her spear at his torso. He blocked it and jumped above to try and smash Gae Bolg upon her shoulder, hoping to dislocate the joint.

She narrowed her eyes and instantly flipped back in the air, leaving him to exert such force on the rock she was previously on that he shattered it into pieces. She spun her body around to gain momentum, then hurled hundreds of small pebbles she had secretly picked up during the grueling fight. They shot for Cuchulainn like miniature comets, but he noticed them coming and twirled his weapon about to repel them. Connla landed at the shore, feeling off-kilter from the ferocious spinning movement.

“You idiot!” Cuchulainn wildly grinned and dashed at her. His body streamed over the surface of the lake and parted the water just from his sheer speed. They got into another round of spear clashing for a few minutes until he knocked her spear out of her hands with a vicious blow. She gasped, realizing that she was wide open for him to pierce her. He let out a battle cry to show her his intent. Instead of panicking, Connla reached into her skirt pocket and carelessly threw more pebbles at him. He wanted to laugh at her foolishness, but he noticed multiples of a familiar sigil etched on them and scowled in rage instead.

_“You cheeky little-!”_ he seethed.

The Ansuz-crested rocks exploded like small bombs and lit up the darkened atmosphere with momentary bursts of fire. While they weren’t as accurate as the one spell she cast earlier, they provided both an attack to blow Cuchulainn back into the lake and a distraction for her to escape. Once again, he found himself submerged beneath the water and tried to swim back up, but Connla fell knees-first right onto his chest, completely forcing the air out of his lungs. The force was so potent that it knocked him unconscious for a second. Any longer than that and he would have drowned for sure.

Connla vaulted off of Cuchulainn and hopped over the walking stones back to shore. She looked back to see if her opponent had followed her, but once the ripples over Lough Neagh’s surface thinned to perfect stillness, she couldn’t see any semblance of movement. She realized that the first signs of sunrise were lighting up the sky, covering the lake with deep colors of indigo, pink and gold.

_It’s almost been a whole day already?_

A sudden splash caught her attention. Cuchulainn broke through the water and stood tall, leaning his head back so he could inhale the deepest breath of his life. Once he was satisfied, he glared at Connla with a glare he reserved for the worst of villains. His demonic expression told her everything; he was not going to mess around anymore. He clutched Gae Bolg tighter, and a red energy swirled around the polearm. In a flash of blue, he instantly jumped out of the lake, churning the water in his wake. Connla readied her weapon to parry whatever was coming, but she couldn’t see where he was.

Before she even realized it, she was flying sideways from a kick he delivered to her torso. She violently tumbled across the grass like a leaf blowing in stormy winds. Once she lost momentum, she gasped for breath and looked up to see if Cuchulainn would try to kill her while she was down. She didn’t see him on the ground or at the lake, so she looked up at the rising morning sun. His body partially obscured the light as he positioned Gae Bolg in a javelin-throwing pose, and the red aura surrounding the legendary weapon grew more intense.

Right then and there, Connla could see something else shine behind Cuchulainn. It wasn’t the radiant sun or the sinister light of Gae Bolg. It was another source of luminance - the fabled ‘hero-light’, seen as the sign of a nation’s true hero. Connla knew she was the daughter of Erin’s greatest hero Cuchulainn, and he would be the only man in this country to show her the hero-light. Not only did she acknowledge the mysterious light, she also recognized Gae Bolg’s energy signature as the same one she saw whenever her teacher Scathach trained with her own copies of the weapon.

_The light of a hero… And the power of the Barbed Spear…_

Connla’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened slightly in awe. Her fascination was short-lived as she realized who the man really was, along with what was going to happen to her. An unusual sense of acceptance calmed her beating heart.

_I see. So this was what you wanted me to accomplish…. Is that all I was to you? Did you give birth to me just so this one moment could happen, Mother?_

His heart heavy with the burden of unleashing Gae Bolg’s true power, Cuchulainn prepared to launch his sure-kill attack upon Connla.

**_“GAE-“_ **

Regardless of the inevitable outcome, Connla still leapt high and aimed her spear at Cuchulainn. She had to fight to the death, even in her final moments. The truth saddened her, but she couldn’t say anything to let him know who he really was about to slay. Emer’s screams for her husband to stop fighting went unheard by both fighters.

_If I’m going to die by his hand, then I’ll do it as a warrior who never refused a challenge, geas or not._

**_“BOLG!”_ **

Upon his fateful incantation, the result was decided. After he thrust the red javelin at her, it made its way straight for her chest and pierced through the small breastplate. Hundreds of small barbs dug through her skin and exploded out of her flesh as miniature spikes. At the same moment she was struck, she threw her spear at his head, but it whizzed past him without causing injury. The weapon arced uselessly and pinned itself into the dirt far behind them.

Connla fell silent. The pain was unbearable, but she was trained not to show agony to the enemy. She stared at Cuchulainn’s jagged expression of anger and bloodlust to keep her mind off of the physical torture.

“Well… done…” she whispered.

Gravity took hold as she fell backwards and plopped onto the ground with a sickening crunch, Gae Bolg still jabbed inside her. It relinquished itself from her torn body and returned to Cuchulainn’s hand while he fell back to the earth on his feet. He was by no means in the best form either; the day-long battle was finally taking its toll on him as his muscles felt like they were being ripped apart from the inside. An excessive amount of sweat and blood drenched his torn clothes. He gasped and breathed heavily, fearing he would pass out at any moment.

“Ohhh!” Laeg exclaimed. “Is it finally over!?”

The other members of the Red Branch Army gasped in astonishment at their prized warrior’s victory. Yet the feeling of euphoria was fleeting, as they knew the defeated intruder was but only a child trapped by the curse of the three geasa. There wasn’t any real threat to their kingdom beyond mere pride, yet the girl had to pay the ultimate price in order to preserve Ulster’s honor. The exhausted Cuchulainn got to his knees and used what strength he had to crawl over to the bloodied Connla.

“Cu…” Emer covered her face and wept. “Oh, cruel fate. Why must you be so unforgiving? Of any opponent to this great nation, why did my beloved have to exert his full might upon _her_ , of all people!?”

“Emer?” Laeg wondered. “Is there something about that child that you know?”

The woman didn’t want to say it. She simply kept sobbing.

Cuchulainn reached the fallen girl and leaned over her so she could get a good look at his face. The thrill of battle was gone, returning him back to the agreeable fellow that he was known for. He murmured, “You did well. It is regrettable though. That’s the second time I had to use Gae Bolg to kill someone. I’m not fond of killing innocent people, so believe me when I say that I did it with a heavy heart.”

Connla’s mouth weakly moved as she tried to say something, but the curse of the Barbed Spear was coursing through her body like venom and robbing her of her strength. Cuchulainn held her head up and asked, “Do you have any last requests?”

“Just… one…”

“What is it?”

“Take off… my right… glove…”

Cuchulainn fulfilled her request and slipped off the heavy leather glove over her right hand. Nestled upon the knuckle of her thumb was a gold ring etched with jagged, angular red marks. It took a moment for it to register in his mind, but when it did, a look of sheer horror unmatched by the battle rage he previously exhibited distorted his face.

“I’m… sorry…” the girl coughed, spewing more blood out of her mouth.

“This isn’t true… No, it can’t be… I gave that ring to Aife so that my child… would come to my side wearing it… when they came of age…!”

“That’s right. I am… Connla… daughter of… Cuchulainn… and Aife…”

Laeg’s eyes widened when he heard her admission. He barked at Emer, “Preposterous! Surely she must be speaking in jest!”

“No… No, it’s true…” Emer shook her head. “I had a bad feeling about this. Cu told me that he left another woman in Scotland pregnant with a bastard child… Even so, he always spoke of wanting to meet his child when they were old enough to come to Ulster… I wanted to warn him of the possibility before it was too late… Oh, great Lugh, what a foolish wife I am for not preventing this tragedy upon your son!”

“Nay, do not blame yourself. If this is as it’s meant to be, then we must be strong and accept it for Connla’s sake.”

Concobhar was likewise at a loss. Although he had to think of his kingdom, he saw so much of the younger Cuchulainn in Connla that it was heart-rending for him to have to waste her life for Ulster’s pride. The whole notion of ‘honor’ felt so distant to him as he watched his nephew throw a fit of rage for his cruel mistake.

“T-This can’t be happening!! This must be some sick joke!!” Cuchulainn screamed. “You can’t be my daughter!! If you’re my child, then… _then I just used the full power of Gae Bolg on you!! There’s no way you’ll survive!!_ ”

She turned her big brown eyes to gaze upon his despairing face. “Are you… denying me… Father?”

He gasped. The mere question chilled his nerves. He ceased panicking and held her close to his chest. “No… I’m not denying you. I would _never_ do that.”

“I’m happy… just to be able… to fight you like this. Mother and Teacher told me… that the souls of true warriors… can only understand each other… through the fiercest of combat. That’s why… you shouldn’t be sad, Father. You showed me more love… in that short duel… than Mother did… in my whole life…”

“The way you fought was very similar to me. It was like I was fighting myself when I was a boy your age. The Witch of Dun Scaith, Scathach, had to have been the one you call Teacher, was she not?”

“Yes. Mother told me… to train under her. I thought she wouldn’t allow me… to be her pupil. I wonder… if she saw you… in me…”

“She only has regards for brave warriors with potential. She can also see the fates of those around her – she must have seen this outcome, but trained you regardless.”

“Really…? I didn’t… know…”

“The fact that you faced me, the Hound of Ulster, on equal grounds is testament enough of her acceptance of your indomitable courage. But those geasa… They are the worst curses anyone could hope to bear!” he scowled, not at Connla, but the one responsible for branding her with those vows.

“Mother… put them on me.”

“Aife did!?” Cuchulainn’s eyes widened into saucers in shock. It all began to make sense to him now. The disjointed pieces of this mystery came together to create a story of vengeance by proxy. He felt like he was going to be sick.

“I did not understand why… but I obeyed her instructions... because I never question those around me,” Connla gasped. “But when you raised Gae Bolg… when I knew what my fate was going to be… I understood what she truly wanted me to accomplish… and that it would be a tragic outcome for you… Father…”

“I know,” he whispered and scooped her into his arms. “It’s not your fault. Aife is the one responsible for this – the circumstance surrounding your birth must have burdened her heavily enough to seek revenge. You were naught but an unwitting representative of her indignation. However, I am the one who spared Aife and told her to bear my child, so I shall not harbor any grudge toward her. I will carry the burden of this mistake and transform it into rage that I can use to tear apart the enemies of Ulster.”

“Father… please don’t become… the Mad Hound of Ulster… because of me…” Connla implored, then coughed weakly.

“Enough. Your strength is fading. I will introduce you to my wife and fellow men, then you may rest in peace.”

Cuchulainn carried his dying daughter up the hill to where his comrades were. Concobhar, Conall, Laeg and Emer immediately surrounded them and introduced themselves to Connla, apologizing profusely for not realizing what was going on. Emer was especially heartbroken for not stopping Cuchulainn when it was the one time in her life she should have.

“Oh, sweet child,” Emer held Connla’s hand. “It is good to meet you.”

“You are…?”

“Cuchulainn’s wife. I know about you and your mother, and how your father eagerly awaited for your arrival. If fate had played itself differently, I would have accepted you as my step-daughter and shown you the love your mother denied you.”

“My… mother…”

Although everyone wanted to meet Connla, Cuchulainn had to cut the introductions short when the girl suddenly howled in pain. Gae Bolg’s curse was destroying her from within and wreaking complete havoc on her internal organs. The geas she also broke by telling him her name also sought to rob her of her strength, but she didn’t care about that anymore.

“That’s enough,” he murmured and laid Connla down upon the grass. He took out a short sword and readied it in a cutting position. Laeg and Conall had taken Emer away so she didn’t have to witness such brutality, even if it was meant to be kind. Concobhar remained still, intent on watching a potential hero’s death so he could plan a proper burial for her. Cuchulainn fought back his grief as he stared at his daughter for one last time. She groaned in agony, then gasped as she said her final words with a smile:

“Together… we may have carried… the flag of Ulster… all the way… to Rome… and beyond…”

With wide, unblinking eyes, Cuchulainn ended Connla’s suffering by slitting her throat.

* * *

In that moment, all of Ulster mourned for the hero who didn’t have the chance to become a legend. Connla’s passing symbolized the beginning stages for the fated death of Ireland’s most fabled hero Cuchulainn, thought to be invincible before this. Even though the sun rose on this terrible morning, it was just beginning to set for his prophesized short life. His heart heavy with his mistake, he took that hatred for himself into his final days where he fell to scores of traps set by Medb, dying after tying his own battered body to a boulder so he could pass away standing while laughing at the animals feasting on his blood.

So ended the storied legend of Ireland’s Child of Light. He died without any regrets. Even though he blamed himself for the biggest mistake of his life, seeing Connla’s skill and fortitude was a source of pride for him. He told himself over and over again, “She died an innocent hero.” It was a contradiction, for no hero was remembered without fighting many bloody battles and ending countless lives. Even Cuchulainn called himself a horrible bastard when he was in a battle frenzy. It was impossible for someone to never kill and still be called a hero. Impossible… until now, that was. Connla demonstrated that it was entirely possible, although the consequence of this was a life cut far too short just to demonstrate her incredible skills and potential.

Because of the brief time she appeared as a character in the Ulster Cycle, her part of the tale was often just compiled as a part of Cuchulainn’s overall greater legend. Her feats only served to prove her father’s superior strength, and to add another dash of tragedy to the man’s life. As the centuries passed and the Holy Grail Wars started, Magi from around the world summoned Servants of different histories, mythologies or fictions to battle each other. Multiple realities were also involved in these struggles. Some of them summoned Cuchulainn in one form or another to fight as a Lancer-class Servant, occasionally seeing him function as a Caster or a Berserker.

The feelings he had when he died remained fresh in his soul as he battled over and over again. As an opinionated man, he always had a lot to say to the Masters and Servants participating in the wars. But there was one thing hidden deep in the back of his mind that he never spoke about:

Not once did he ever see Connla summoned as a Servant.

He witnessed other characters of Irish mythology like Fergus, Scathach, Medb, Fionn and Diarmuid appear. Why not Connla? She was just as good as Cuchulainn was in combat. Why couldn’t she be called as a warrior in the Holy Grail Wars?

He knew the answer already though; he was the better option.

He was more famous, had more experience, and wielded a legendary weapon that guaranteed death. He was the one getting in her way of making a legend for herself. Each time he was summoned, those feelings grew bigger and bigger until they felt like they were going to burst. No one loved Connla like Cuchulainn did, yet he was the biggest obstacle to her growth as a Heroic Spirit. As long as it remained like this, she never stood a chance of being summoned. There was nothing he could do to save his daughter from falling into obscurity.

After he carried those feelings for many years, a small hole was torn open in the timeline. A Holy Grail was created in response to Cuchulainn’s darkest desire. He was tired of waiting for a miracle to happen. If humanity refused to acknowledge Connla, then Cuchulainn would transform his corroding feelings into the Barbed Spear that would pierce the heart of the World. He believed that humans had no right to decide which heroes were ‘greater’ or ‘lesser’ than the other. Since they abused that power so much, he could only reach one conclusion:

_“I won’t forgive them…”_


	4. Alien Wasteland

**FATE/LAOCH GAN FINSCEAL**

**“Hero Without Legend”**

**Chapter 4: Alien Wasteland**

Ritsuka’s eyes shot open.

She had been sleeping deeply, but woke up after experiencing a vivid dream of another’s life. She sat up in her bed and wiped her brow of the sweat that permeated her skin. As a Master, she was able to summon her Servants and have them do battle upon her commands. Such perks came at the cost of not only depleting her prana stores, but also exposing her mind to the pasts of these Heroic Spirits. Rarely were these stories solely of greatness and wonder; it felt like a given that Ritsuka was going to see some cruel events thrown into the mix as well. She had to learn to remain strong and not allow these feelings to overtake her heart.

Ritsuka washed her face and left her room to walk around Chaldea’s facility for a bit. She didn’t want to disturb Mash or Roman so late at night, so she headed for the empty mess hall. During her walk however, she found Lancer leaning against the wall and gazing at the silvery Antarctic scenery.

“Good evening, Master,” she greeted her superior.

“Hi, Lancer.”

“Did you have trouble sleeping?”

“Well…”

Ritsuka looked away for a second, wondering if she should tell the girl about her dream. To her surprise however, Lancer said, “You dreamed about me, didn’t you?”

“What-?”

“I felt a strong connection to you as you slept. You must have experienced my history, right?”

“Um… Yeah, I did.”

“So you know what my True Name is?”

“I’m not sure… I remember everything clearly, but your name is somehow coming up a complete blank…”

“I see,” Lancer nodded. “That is the horrifying power of Identity Concealment that my geas has bestowed upon me. As I expected, not even my Master is allowed to know who I am by default.”

“But Cuchulainn was in that dream as well. Would he know your identity?”

“He should. Only he, Mother, and Teacher can bypass the geas with their innate knowledge of my existence, meaning they are the only ones permitted to say my name.”

“So Cuchulainn is the key,” Ritsuka realized. “I should tell Dr. Roman and Da Vinci first thing in the morning. If we could find a way to summon him, we could figure out more about you.”

“I still don’t see why it’s such an issue for you though, Master,” Lancer tilted her head curiously. “Wouldn’t it be better for me to remain as an anonymous Lancer so that we can utilize it against our enemies?”

“Yeah, that’s true, but something just feels ‘off’ about all of this…”

“Meaning?”

“Well, all Heroic Spirits have some kind of legend that they are connected to, which inscribes their history within the Throne of Heroes and allows Magi to summon them as Servants. The idea of a Heroic Spirit being ‘anonymous’ just doesn’t work in such a system. Even if you are unknown to all except a chosen few, your story must have reached the Throne somehow.”

“I didn’t accomplish anything of consequence in my life however.”

“That’s not true. You’re standing here as a Servant. Therefore, you must have done something to be recognized. Otherwise, none of this will make any sense.”

Lancer sighed. “I suppose that’s the only conclusion to such logic.”

Ritsuka put her hands on the girl’s shoulders and asked firmly, “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Lancer closed her eyes, thinking of what to say next. She made her decision, then looked at her Master and said, “I’m not sure if this will help answer your question, but would you be open to allowing me to show you another dream about myself?”

“You mean there’s another story you want to show me?”

“Yes. This is one that human history will never remember. But the Throne of Heroes can see all, so if it allowed me to be here as your Servant, then I believe this tale is the answer you’re looking for.”

“A story that human history will never remember,” Ritsuka murmured. “That’s what happens when Mash and I go to correct the Singularities; our adventures will only live on in our memories, never to be documented… Wait! Are you telling me you were involved in correcting a Singularity!?”

“Well deduced, Master. It wasn’t like one of the seven Singularities that Chaldea seeks, but a lesser one where the World summoned Servants to destroy the irregular Holy Grail and correct the timeline.”

“But even so, how were you summoned to correct a Singularity when the Throne didn’t recognize you as a Heroic Spirit in the first place? Summoned heroes also aren’t supposed to remember any events other than what occurred in their natural lives. How can you even remember being summoned and correcting the Singularity when that’s normally impossible?”

Lancer frowned somberly. “The wish made upon that Holy Grail defied those rules…”

“What sort of wish?”

“If you want to know more, then return to sleep and let me show you.”

Ritsuka nodded and returned to her room. Lancer’s words gave her an unusual boost of energy, yet she needed to dispel such excitement and try to fall asleep. She took a powerful sedative to help her, and after about 10 minutes of tossing and turning, she descended back into the realm of dreams. Lancer sensed that her Master had returned to sleep, so she closed her eyes and focused on connecting to Ritsuka to show her the memories she possessed.

* * *

**Unknown Grail War – A.D. 2017**

**Humanity Foundation Value: C**

**Unspoken Fraudulent Ordeal – Nevada, America**

**The Innocent One Reclaimed From Anonymity**

The Silver State.

That was the moniker given to the 36th state of America, Nevada. Many years ago, a rich deposit of silver attracted settlers to the area and strengthened the state’s economy. In this era though, gambling and high-class entertainment were the main draws to its largest city Las Vegas. Considered to be the brightest city in the world for its millions of lights that could be seen even from space, the city managed to prosper as an economic oasis in the middle of the unforgiving arid desert.

Bright and colorful entertainment wasn’t the only thing that drew people here. Ironically, there was also a deep-seeded darkness that the government took extreme measures to protect from such curious eyes. Its official name was the Air Force Flight Test Center, Detachment 3, but maps designated it as its shorthand nickname; Area 51. Outsiders commonly knew it was a top-secret military base for testing new aircraft, but the American government sought to protect the knowledge of these tests from everyone, regardless of friend or foe.

An infamous incident that connected Area 51 to popular culture was the Roswell “UFO” sighting of 1947. Although it occurred in New Mexico rather than Nevada, the idea of a mysterious aircraft crashing in the middle of nowhere, coupled with Area 51’s notoriety as a testing ground for new, sometimes incredibly strange aircraft as far as the public could understand, and it was the perfect recipe for conspiracy theorists to start debating about whether or not the government had made contact with extraterrestrials. The arguments still thrived even on the 70th anniversary of the bizarre Roswell case.

In any case, Nevada was the stage for another lesser Singularity event set in the year 2017. This was the prophesized ‘final year’ of humanity before its ultimate destruction in 2018, and it showed. The streets of Las Vegas were already abandoned, with hundreds of cars stranded along the roadways. Street lights faithfully continued changing colors to guide traffic that would no longer come. Although the numerous casinos, hotels and resorts were still standing strong, they were already showing signs of their imminent destruction with broken windows and cracked foundation ruining the otherwise vibrant metropolis.

Not only was there destruction, there was plenty of death to go with it. Corpses lined the streets and sidewalks like dolls in a messy child’s room. The blood had since dried up in the scorching sun, and the bodies were rapidly decaying into hollowed husks. There was no mistaking the manner upon which an entire city’s populace died; everyone had some kind of fatal injury to them. The strange thing was that they didn’t come from manmade objects like guns or knives that were common sources of murders in Las Vegas. Instead, these people died from something with narrow claws flaying their flesh and sharp teeth biting into them, devouring bits as a source of food. No valuable possessions like money, food, clothing, or even human organs were taken though. It was nothing more than the result of a carnal bloodbath, just for the pointless sake of ending lives.

This was a terrible Singularity, one which would be difficult for humanity to recover from even should the timeline be corrected. Even so, the heroes had to march forth to bring the Grand Order upon this desolate city.

* * *

“Haah… Where in the world am I?”

Connla let out an exasperated sigh and gazed at her surroundings. As far as she could tell, she was in the middle of a humongous field covered with smooth stone that had weird paintings like lines and words. In the distance was a massive building made of steel and angled stone, and the large area outside was dotted with unusual boat-like winged chariots that could carry hundreds of people into the sky. There was absolutely no sign of the greenery and wildlife she was accustomed to in Scotland and Ireland, and it greatly bothered her.

She had no way of knowing, but she had been summoned to the middle of McCarran International Airport’s air field, in the far southern area of Las Vegas’ roadway known as the Strip, or ‘the most expensive four-mile stretch in the world’. The weird iron chariots Connla saw were grounded airplanes, and the huge building was the terminal. Everything felt so foreign to her that she felt like she didn’t belong here.

“Am I on another planet?” she asked herself.

No answer came to her, so she decided to go forward on that assumption.

_I should look for someone and ask for directions._

She looked over at the building and figured she could get a good start there, so she ran at full speed toward the nearest entrance. Along the way though, she noticed a few workers sporadically laying about on the concrete. She approached one man and shook his shoulder, asking, “Are you okay?”

Connla turned him over, then yelped at what she saw. His chest had been gouged clean through and scooped of its visceral contents. Blood spewed from his mouth, a slit on his neck, the huge wound on his abdomen, and countless smaller scratches. His eyes were frozen wide open, as if forever engraving the sight of his killer within them.

“My word…!”

She didn’t know what to make of this. Inspecting the other workers yielded very similar results. A terrible sinking feeling grew within the pit of her stomach as she thought of what the people would be like inside the building. She swallowed hard, not accustomed to such blatant slaughtering other than what she had seen in the Land of Shadows. She thought about Scathach’s impassive expression towards such grisly matters, trying to find some sense of courage in her mentor’s stoicism.

_Teacher would laugh at me if she saw me like this. I need to stay strong and accept what I see…_

After giving herself a few mental pep talks, Connla felt ready to venture inside the immense facility. Already she could see spatters of blood on the glass and walls, and corpses about one or two days old lined the floors just at the entrance. She passed through the doors and called out, “Hello!? Is anyone there!?”

No answer. She would’ve been happy to get any sort of response, even if it was hostile. But no; total, complete silence greeted her. A powerful uncertainty surrounded the area. What should have been lively bustling for hundreds of citizens going about their daily lives had become the eternal stillness of death. Connla gazed in horror at the senseless carnage before her; countless people had suffered similar violent murders to the men outside. Regardless of age, gender, race, color or belief, everyone died the same way – panicking for their lives as they tried to flee from whatever ghastly forces preyed upon them. There was no way the young spearman was going to find anyone alive here to ask for more information. Furthermore, another worry crept up on her like some indecent stalker’s gaze;

_Are the ones responsible for this… still here?_

Connla clenched her teeth, unsure of what to do next. She could look around the terminal for the culprit, but she knew enough about body decomposition to understand that these people were murdered about one or two days ago. She highly doubted their killer would stick around for so long without moving on to fresher pastures. Connla looked outside the huge windows facing the Strip and saw the tall skyscrapers in the distance.

She figured that exploring the city would be better than staying here, so after giving a silent prayer and apology for the many victims, she exited the airport and started to make her way westward. She wouldn’t make it very far when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. She gasped lightly and whipped her head to the side, fearing she was under attack. She wasn’t, but there was no mistaking that something moved. She looked up at one of the airplanes and noticed its emergency exit was open, littered with bodies that had unceremoniously fallen upon the concrete.

_…!? There!_

Connla saw it for sure this time. Who- or whatever this darting figure was, it was coming from inside the plane. There was no way to know if it was a survivor or the culprit, so she remained on high alert as she ran to the opened door and jumped inside with a strong leap. She poked her head inside and discovered rows of tight-fitting seats occupied by more dead citizens. However, what caught the spearman’s attention this time wasn’t the deceased…

 _“Uwah!? What are these things!?”_ she let out a careless yelp.

It was no wonder she was astonished. Crawling over the dead passengers were dozens of small humanoid figures no taller than about three feet. Their skin was chalky grey, their heads were unusually enlarged, and they possessed massive soulless black eyes that easily reflected the light around them. What she didn’t know was that these creatures symbolized the popular imagery of extraterrestrials in modern culture. They came to be known as grey aliens, existing as part of society’s collective consciousness ever since the first well-known claim of alien abduction back in September of 1961. Unlike that claim however, these aliens were far too real for Connla to dismiss as denizens of some kind of sci-fi nightmare.

Once they heard her cry, they simultaneously turned their abnormal heads in her direction, and she gasped at how creepy their unanimous movement was. She heard clawing sounds behind her and looked back. The door to the cockpit was open, and the two pilots plus a fight attendant were slumped over while more creatures tore them apart. They noticed her as well and slowly made their way toward her.

Connla realized how bad her situation was; she was caught in a pincer, and there was no way she could fight in such cramped quarters. The monsters’ movements became quicker as they focused on her as their next target. In a panic, she jumped back with several hops and hurriedly sailed out of the emergency exit with a soaring jump seconds before the creatures from both sides swarmed the spot where she was. As she landed upon the tarmac, the aliens flocked around any opening they could find, writhing about in a disturbing mass like a den of newborn spiders.

_Could this be a swarm of Sluagh!? Teacher told me about how they’re hordes of troublesome undead spirits!_

One of the aliens charged at Connla and swiped its claws, but she jumped aside and skewered its miniature chest.

_No, that can’t be right. If these were undead, I shouldn’t have been able to kill one with just an ordinary spear…_

More and more creatures ganged upon her, unconcerned about their fallen brethren.

“Geez! Thinking about it won’t do anything!” Connla shouted in frustration. “Very well! Since you are challenging me, I have no choice but to respond appropriately!”

They didn’t care what she said and charged upon her with tinny battle howls. She let out a vicious cry of her own and swung her polearm in a swath, cutting through the front row of aliens effortlessly. They weren’t very powerful, but it was clear to her that quantity over quality was the strategy these things employed. Unlike the humans they easily butchered however, Connla was a Servant; she would not be an easy opponent for them to take down even if she was just by herself. She demonstrated her power by continuously cutting through each alien like a hot knife through butter, taking the time to also dance and twirl around the critters’ leaping slashes without much thought.

_Now that I think about it, this isn’t much different from fighting monsters in the Land of Shadows alongside Teacher._

The memories of standing alongside Scathach against powerful undead monsters flooded back in her mind, calming her excited nerves and getting her into the familiar combat groove. It was the aliens’ turn to have their bloodied bodies piling up in heaps of gore and death alongside the humans they killed. Conversely, Connla really wasn’t suffering much damage other than some light lacerations. She remained calm as ever, not feeling threatened by these things whatsoever.

“I’ve got you now!” she called out and swung again. The creatures’ behavior started to change as they focused less on offense and more on retreat. They must have realized that they were no match for this spear-wielding child, but she wasn’t going to relent. Those innocent people needed to be avenged, and she would not rest until she accomplished that. She channeled an Ansuz rune and flung it at the horde, detonating it and disintegrating a good number of aliens into ashes. They screeched in panic. Their numbers had suddenly become too thin for them to keep attacking. They scurried away from her and began fleeing towards the city.

_Not good! I have to follow them, or else they’ll kill more innocent people!_

Connla ran as fast as she could to pursue the alien mob. Even without being a Heroic Spirit, her running speed was incredible, being able to cover several meters of ground per second. Despite her best efforts however, she still couldn’t seem to keep up with the creatures. The chase took them up Tropicana Avenue past MGM Grand and Tropicana Hotel. She had to weave and hop over corpses, stalled vehicles, and numerous city-related obstacles just to maintain a decent speed. If she wasn’t in such a hurry and knew this strange world better, she would have loved to explore these grand facilities that sought to rival a king’s castle, mostly because she was never able to see inside an actual castle in her lifetime.

_Where are these Sluagh-like creatures going anyway? Are they operating as a singular hive mind, or is this just normal mob behavior? Or maybe they’re under someone’s control…_

None of those ideas bode well for her. She didn’t want to make any wild guesses until she got more information though, so pursuing the monsters was the only solid lead she had right now. Once she started to reach the intersection at Tropicana Avenue and Las Vegas Boulevard, that was when she noticed something amiss.

_What the…? Is that another battle!?_


	5. Servants of Survival

**FATE/LAOCH GAN FINSCEAL**

**“Hero Without Legend”**

**Chapter 5: Servants of Survival**

As Connla reached the Strip, she could finally see someone other than a bunch of aliens. He was very tall and muscular, but he had a clammy grey shade of skin very similar to the grey aliens, contrasted only by locks of blonde hair. He appeared to be perpetually smiling as he beat and thrashed about without a care in the world. The only thing he wore was a bunch of leather straps wrapped around his face and abs, save for metallic groin protection. Even so, those bits of armor didn’t seem to function as defense for this man whatsoever; his muscles were so herculean that even if the monsters dug their claws as deep as they could, they would only leave bleeding scratches. It looked like he didn’t care about how much damage he had sustained either, as if the wounds only served to empower him.

Connla was astonished by how much the man seemed to be enjoying himself in this mad frenzy. She didn’t think he would fear of being overpowered, but she needed to talk with him nonetheless. With her mind set on rescuing him from the incoming onslaught of grey aliens, she found an auto transport trailer and ran up the ramp to the top of the cab before leaping as high as she could over the battlefield.

**_“HAAA~AAA~AAAH!”_ **

Connla screamed at the top of her lungs to get the aliens’ attention before hurling dozens of Ansuz-charged rocks at them. They detonated like bombs, covering the air in intense heat and noise that broke apart the mob with ease. She landed near the muscular Servant and inspected the damage she had done. If the creatures weren’t dead, they were slumped on their sides feeling woozy from the sudden destruction.

“Whoaaah! Now that’s the kind of justice I like!” the man grinned in admiration. “Quick and to the point!”

“I don’t know about justice or anything like that, but it looks like you’re still knee-deep in trouble. Would you like some assistance?”

“Well I’d say I have these ruffians in the bag, but I won’t turn down a gesture of camaraderie like that either! Let’s show these unearthly fiends the true might of battle-tested champions!”

Connla and the man stood side-by-side with their weapons ready. Along with the pint-sized aliens she had encountered, a much larger, bulkier version of them were also present, although they appeared to have suffered some damage from the male Servant’s brutal thrashing. In an instant, Connla sprinted into the fray and spun about, rotating her spear like a fan blade that sheared through the smaller creatures.

“TOOH!” the male Servant shouted and slammed his spiked gladius deep into the shoulder of one of the muscular aliens, dislocating its shoulder so badly that he nearly tore the whole arm off. He took another swing at a beast that was trying to ambush him from behind, essentially decapitating it from the inside after the club shattered its upper spine.

The duo kept up this pressure for about 10 minutes or so, significantly thinning out the herd until they killed the final remnants. Once the chaos died down, Connla reunited with the brawny Servant and said, “Looks like things have settled for now.”

“Well done, little miss!” he complimented her with a booming voice. “For someone of such puny stature, you fought most remarkably!”

“Oh, it’s not that big of a deal…”

“It is! Anyone who is as small as you must be one of the weak that I must defend from oppressors! Yet, your battle prowess is not of this world! It is like you are a goddess of war trapped inside such a feeble mortal shell! What a conundrum! I am compelled to protect the weak and small, but when such a weak and small little girl like you comes along and decimates the enemy...! Oh, such a paradox boggles the mind, to be sure!”

_How many times is he going to keep calling me small or little?_

Before the fellow could continue his nonsensical rant, Connla said, “You appear to be a Servant in the Berserker class. Could you tell me who you are and what is going on in this place?”

“But of course! I am Spartacus, the eternal rebel who forever stands against oppression and injustice, seeking to free the skies from even the stifling rule of the gods! May I have the honor of knowing your name, little miss?”

“My name…?” she squeaked. “I’m, uh…”

“What’s the matter?”

“No, it’s just… Um, for certain reasons, I actually can’t tell you who I am…”

“What nonsense. Are you trying to defy the meaning of being polite to others!? Such rascals like you need a swift punishment!” Spartacus declared, readying his weapon to take her on.

“Wait, just listen to me! I actually have a spell placed on me that doesn’t allow me to introduce myself!”

“Hoh?” Spartacus raised an eyebrow and calmed himself. He had never heard of anything so ludicrous before. “What would happen if you went against this so-called ‘spell’ of yours?”

“I’d fall victim to a terrible curse.”

“Well, well! Your behavior is strange, but you seem like a bright young lady. Tell me, did you place this oppressive spell on yourself, or did someone else?”

“Someone else did…” Connla sighed, appearing downhearted for a second.

“What nerve! An oppressor who denies others the basic right to introduce themselves!? Give me five minutes with them and I will show them the meaning of good manners!”

“Even if you did that, it still wouldn’t undo the curse… Anyway, I’m really sorry for the inconvenience!” the girl bowed fervently. “Y-You’re more than welcome to call me whatever you wish in return.”

“Hmm…” Spartacus spent a moment thinking about it, then laughed. “Very well! No need to apologize for someone else’s tyranny, little miss! If that’s how it is, then I have no choice but to accept the fate you have been forced to endure. Given a choice however, I would have gladly shown that tyrant their place for putting you in such an awkward situation!”

_Spartacus versus Mother… That would be a match for the ages,_ Connla thought uneasily.

“Well, then!” the gladiator declared loudly. “Now that we have disposed of those vile wretches, let us make haste into this foreign landscape of posh and luxury to quell even more evil!”

“Quell more evil? Don’t you mean we should be rescuing people?”

“Hm? Did you not notice the widespread scale of death and destruction that has already plagued this opulent village?”

“I was only summoned just now, so I really don’t know what’s going on. Do you know what the situation is like here?”

His normally broad grin suddenly turned into a creased frown. “I do not like being the bearer of such unfortunate news, but the villains who set their sights upon this place have been victorious in their unforgiving search for blood. Our rebellion came much too late for us to save these innocent people.”

“So you’re saying that everyone here is…?”

She didn’t want to think about finishing that sentence. If every person in Las Vegas was in the same state as she saw them at McCarran, she would be beyond devastated. It was better for her not to dwell on such a depressing idea.

“Aye,” Spartacus affirmed grimly. “The only ones here are you, myself, and one other facing against hordes of those unspeakable things.”

“Another Servant is here!?” Connla exclaimed.

“That’s right. We met somewhere along this flat stone road, but then got separated while fighting the beasts.”

“Then why are we just standing here!? We need to go help him!”

“I know that your passion for rebellion is as strong as mine, but I do not care for that kind of demanding attitude, young miss.”

“Oh, um… sorry for being so bossy,” she hastily apologized, then thought, _I better be careful of what I say around him. He might be my ally, but he’s still a Berserker._

“Very well! Fret not over trivial matters! Let us make haste to our next revolt!”

Connla followed Spartacus along Las Vegas Boulevard, heading north toward the Aria Resort and Mandarin Oriental area. Along the way, she saw dozens of human and alien bodies scattered across both sides of the street. Countless windows had been broken through, leaving minuscule shards of glass everywhere. Various abandoned cars and vehicles had been crushed in by some unknown compelling force that made her very nervous.

_Just what other kinds of strange monsters am I going to encounter? Those small Sluagh things were already bad enough._

While she was preoccupied with worrying about the nature of her enemy, she failed to notice something large being propelled in an arc straight for the duo. She looked up and saw a massive blue dumpster flying right in her path!

**_“WHOAAAH!”_** she let out a terrified shriek and sunk the soles of her boots against the road to try and skid to a stop.

“Gah!” Spartacus grunted as he brusquely tackled Connla aside with his arm. She felt like she had hit a brick wall as she went rolling on the ground, but at least she was out of the dumpster’s way. She managed to watch as the garbage bin slammed against Spartacus with a deafening thud and sent him dragging backwards with tremendous force. He pushed his arms against the metal and dug his boots so deep into the street that he wound up a couple of inches beneath the dirt.

“Spartacus!” Connla shouted in fear.

“Worry not about me!” he grunted in response, obviously sounding exhausted from exerting enough strength to withstand crushing G forces. “Go and aid our comrade!”

She nodded and scurried to her feet to proceed further down the boulevard. It didn’t take long for her to approach the second battlefield, where another muscular man clad only in a traditional Spartan helmet, a red kilt and gold boots valiantly stood his ground against a massive chimera. The monster lunged forth and spewed searing poison at him, but he managed to hide his upper body behind his large circular shield. Once the breath dissipated, he roared and stabbed at one of its eyes with his spear, gouging it out and rendering the beast blind on that side. It didn’t seem to care and swiped its claws at him, denting his shield and knocking him back from raw force.

As much as Connla wanted to help him back up, she figured it was imperative to get the monster off him so he could recover on his own. She ran past the surprised warrior and leapt on the chimera’s lion head before vaulting straight up to where she could see the snake-headed tail. It attempted to sink its fangs into her arm and envenomate her, but she tucked aside and grabbed its neck, swinging her body in an arc before landing on the chimera’s hindquarters and decapitating the snake with a single stroke. It let out a deafening howl and kicked its rear legs up to throw her off, then glared back at her with the intent to bite her head off.

**_“GRAAAAGH!”_ **

The armored spearman thrust his spear forth and cleanly pierced through the lion head’s skull and brain. Since that particular head was the primary one, the chimera’s other heads stopped moving. It slumped forward in a heap of mish-mashed animal parts and collapsed onto the ground, dead as could be. The armored man withdrew his weapon and observed his handiwork.

“Phew… As hideous as that abomination was, it was a decent workout,” he muttered with a sigh.

He looked over at Connla and called out, “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she responded. “No injuries to report, sir.”

“Good.”

He clamped his hands over his helmet and removed it, revealing him to be a man in his 30s with short red hair that had some loose strands covering his forehead. He cast his sharp eyes upon the girl and said with a gruff voice, “Despite your age, you appear to have been summoned as a Servant as I have. It was reckless of you to try and take on a creature of such size, but I thank you nonetheless. It was your ambush and my calculated strike that have granted us victory this day.”

“Don’t mention it,” she murmured. “I ran into Spartacus on the way here as well.”

“Did you now? Where is he?”

“He was being held back by some large metal box or something, so he told me to go on ahead.”

“I see.”

“Hey!” they heard the gladiator call to them in the distance. He caught up to them and huffed, “Good, good! Although I am disparaged that I am late in my arrival, the sight of such a grotesque villain’s death brings joy to my still-beating heart!”

“Don’t celebrate just yet,” the Spartan fellow chastised him. “We still have yet to take down the one responsible for this travesty.”

“I know that. Now that we have the little miss on our side, we are invincible!”

“Are you out of your gourd!? Loathe as I am to say it, we could not hope to challenge the enemy like this!”

Connla said, “At the very least, I don’t really know what’s going on, and I wouldn’t like to go into a fight without some information. All Spartacus told me was that everyone in this city is dead, and you just said that there really is someone controlling these monsters, right?”

“That is the long and short of it,” the warrior said. “Ah, I should introduce myself first. I am the king of Sparta, Leonidas I, who led the defensive battle against Xerxes and his Persian army in the Battle of Thermopylae. Who might you be, Little One?”

“Oh, um…” she rubbed her hands together in hesitation.

Spartacus piped in, “I tried asking her too, but she says she has some weird spell on her that doesn’t allow her to say her name, or else she’ll fall victim to a curse.”

“How unusual,” Leonidas raised an eyebrow. “Well if that is how it is, then so be it. So long as I understand your class and battle capabilities, then I am satisfied.”

“Thank you for understanding,” Connla said.

“So as far as our situation goes, it appears that we are the only Servants who have been summoned to challenge the monsters who have already spread their blight and misery upon this city. As cruel as this may sound, our goal is not to save anyone; it is to drive back the Servant commanding these strange creatures before she can attempt to move to another place.”

“What is this Servant like?”

“I was unable to get a good look at her face since she has perched herself atop one of the many grand structures along this road. However, there is no mistake that she is pure evil in the flesh. From what I could see, she was some scantily-clad dominatrix type of woman wielding a butcher knife, so I believe she is a Saber-class Servant.”

“What about the numbers she is commanding?”

“I could not do a full assessment of their capabilities, but there are probably enough monsters to blanket this entire town.”

“Oh boy…” Connla sighed and rubbed her forehead. “If we’re the only Servants against such an army, then we need a plan.”

“Well spoken, lass,” Leonidas agreed. “It would be suicide for us to attempt a head-on attack. Their leader must be swiftly defeated so that we may send the minions into a state of disarray. Cleaning up from there should be little trouble.”

“What is there to think about?” Spartacus asked, grinning so wide that it looked like his lips would cut the top of his cranium from the rest. “All we need to do is cut a path to the tyrant and take her down with extreme prejudice!”

“Is the most difficult option the only one you can think of, you meatheaded lout!?”

“What, I thought a fellow man of muscle would agree to such a simple strategy!”

“A simple plan and sheer stupidity are two completely different beasts!”

“Um, if I may,” Connla interrupted the men before they could spiral into an argument. “You said that you saw who the enemy leader was, right?”

“Correct,” Leonidas said.

“Then conversely, that means she saw the two of you as well, no?”

“Yes, we had a brief confrontation with that devil woman.”

“So she knows about both of you being her opponents. However, she must not know about me being summoned. We should take advantage of that by having me sneak around and launch a surprise attack against her while she’s preoccupied with you two.”

“Hmm…” the Spartan murmured. “It is a sound idea, but I am not satisfied with allowing you to expose yourself to such needless danger again.”

“It’s the only thing I can think of. Besides, didn’t you see how I fought earlier? I am a Lancer-class Servant like you are; I am more than capable of fighting in close range quarters against a Saber. Plus both of you perform best when you are at a severe disadvantage. I’m sure you can hold up while I take care of things on my end.”

“… I see. I suppose there is no choice. Then Spartacus and I will provide a distraction. Be quick, but be silent as well. You are not an Assassin, so you do not have the benefit of Presence Concealment,” Leonidas warned her as he put his helmet back on.

“Of course,” Connla replied and dashed down Harmon Avenue, then turned left at Koval Lane. The goal was for her to take a detour while the men remained on the Strip to confront this unknown female leader in a direct assault, hopefully distracting her from the young Servant’s ambush. Just as Leonidas claimed, the woman stood high above the roof of The Cromwell Hotel and observed the chaos she spearheaded with sadistic glee. Connla eventually reached Flamingo Road and looked up at the resort building. She could see frenzied activity in the distance as Spartacus and Leonidas used their strongest attacks on the alien hordes that inevitably ganged upon them.

_Looks like no one saw me. I’d best hurry up or else they will be overwhelmed,_ she thought.


	6. Story vs. Legend

**FATE/LAOCH GAN FINSCEAL**

**“Hero Without Legend”**

**Chapter 6: Story vs. Legend**

While Connla was busy preparing for her sneak attack, Leonidas and Spartacus continued up the Las Vegas Strip until they reached the front of The Cromwell. More aliens awaited their arrival, along with a white-haired woman who stood atop the resort’s rooftop admiring the genocidal view. She stepped forth and called out to the men, “I see you are still alive. Such persistence is getting to be quite tiresome.”

“We will not rest until you have been brought to justice, oppressor!” Spartacus exclaimed, retaining his eerie battle smile.

Leonidas pointed his spear at her and declared, “Carmilla, wicked vampire of Hungary! No matter how many you send upon us, our blades shall sing the song of your inevitable requiem! Prepare yourself for the end!”

“How unsightly,” Carmilla murmured. She had not been summoned as an Assassin, but rather as a Saber, evidenced by the large meat cleaver and various small swords she kept strapped around her waist and legs. Her outfit wasn’t much different from her Assassin persona, but she lost the red dress and kept it simple with an embellished black leotard and thigh boots. This was a Carmilla who represented the actual murderer of countless young women, happily taking on the unpleasant task of expelling her victims’ blood with her blades. Her Assassin version was merely an exaggeration of her witch-like desire for retaining her youth by bathing in the blood of the murdered.

Carmilla gazed down at the horde of extraterrestrials she commanded, then waved her arm forth and called out, “I have no interest in single-minded brutes who think shouting words of morale will help them accomplish the impossible. Crush them ‘til not even a shred of their flesh remains, so that my senses will no longer be offended by their ugliness!”

Hundreds of shrill shrieks echoed around the warriors, followed by this distinct pattering of numerous pairs of feet that charged straight for them.

“Bring it on, then!” Leonidas exclaimed, drawing their attention towards him.

“WHOOOAH! Such bedlam! My blood yearns to silence this chaos!” Spartacus cheered and charged into the foray.

Carmilla watched her mindless minions encroach upon the two men with visible disinterest. She twirled her hair around her finger boredly and murmured, “So tedious. Even if it were just me, I would have had no trouble bringing all of these people to their knees. However, he wanted those disgusting vermin to run loose as a test run. I suppose there’s nothing I can do about it except wait for my chance.”

She thought she heard something off to the side, so she turned her head around. Just as she was looking behind, Connla twirled her spear above her head and pointed the blade right at the pale woman’s slender neck, astonishing the countess.

“You-! Where did you come from!?” Carmilla growled. She genuinely had not heard nor sensed the girl’s presence until she had leapt upon the roof.

“I won’t forgive you,” Connla ignored the question. Her glare was firm, but there obviously was fire burning within her soul. “Not only did you command the destruction of this grand city, you have the gall to desecrate the bodies of the innocent and expel their blood for your demented pleasure.”

“And I did. Such a fruitful morsel shouldn’t go to waste beneath this arid sun, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I will never understand your logic even in a million years.”

“Ah, but death is so beautiful. The final moments before a life is extinguished are most pleasant to me.”

“So long as others are doing the dying? How convenient for you.”

“You misunderstand, little lady. I cannot die. Even if my flesh is doomed to decay and my soul cast to the deepest bowels of Hell, my legend will carry itself through generations. I am a Servant who exists to continue the story of Elizabeth Bathory, the Blood Countess. The deaths of many are the sacrifices needed to propel my story into the future.”

“Thrusting yourself upon a throne of bones and blood? I have no words to describe my disgust.”

“There’s no need to,” Carmilla smiled defiantly. “You eyes, so fresh and bright, show me your lack of understanding for my motivation. You are naught but an inexperienced child who cannot comprehend the world beyond the shallow lessons that you have been taught.”

“…”

“Yes, such clear eyes… Such a youthful body… Such fresh blood… You loathe me so, but your vibrancy fascinates me. I do not know who you are, Nameless One, but I must have your life. I must extinguish your light and make it my own!”

With whip-like speed, the Blood Countess unsheathed her meat cleaver and slashed it at the tip of her young opponent’s spear, throwing her arms aside and almost making her lose her grip. Connla gasped as a wave of pure dark energy billowed from Carmilla’s other hand and sent her flying backwards onto the ground. She looked up to see the killer raise her knife over her, so she propped her legs up so her body formed into a ball and vaulted further back to avoid being chopped. Connla descended upon the resort’s outdoor swimming pool area and glared up at Carmilla.

“Running away so soon? Stay a while. Fall victim to my beauty and be embraced by the thorny arms of my Phantom Maiden,” the woman smiled.

Connla had no intention of fleeing. She needed to gauge her enemy’s strength and combat capabilities first before going in to fight her. Carmilla jumped down and swung her blade over the girl’s head, which she easily blocked by raising her spear. They clashed about for a few seconds, with Carmilla throwing her numerous blades at Connla, while the small warrior deflected them.

“They say that foot soldiers never stay still,” the countess mumbled to herself. “I should fix that immediately.”

She raised her arm up, showing an incantation shaped like a spiked bracelet around her wrist.

“Sealed from the world, silenced for all time! Imaginary prison of solitude! **Absolute Immurement!** ”

Several glyphs that she had placed earlier shone red and generated thin lines that rose several meters above and around them like a box. The lines connected, then the walls they created shimmered and surrounded the two fighters inside a dark prison comprised entirely of stone blocks. There was no entrance, hole, or doorway to be found anywhere, and no light from the outside filtered in. Aside from the stones, various torture devices and bloodied weapons could be seen strewn about. The source of light were some primitive torches on the walls. Connla looked around in astonishment, realizing that she was trapped in a makeshift dungeon. The image was an illusion, but the concept of an inescapable prison had been made real.

_A Reality Marble? Or is this simply a Bounded Field?_

She wasn’t really sure at first, but when she had been summoned, she had been flooded with knowledge about the Holy Grail Wars to help her fight more effectively. One such term she came to learn was of the Reality Marble, or a world representing the user’s will and manifesting it into a pocket dimension. It overrode the world itself in that area, but it was only a temporary effect as the real world naturally wore the Reality Marble down and returned the area back to normal. Normally those with incredible capabilities for magecraft such as Magi or Caster-class Servants were the only ones who could create these dimensions due to the amount of study and magical power required.

The second term, a Bounded Field, was simply a network of magical energies that the user would spread over a specific area. It served to separate what was inside the network from the outside, but this ran the risk of the sigils being removed by a third party. The appearance of being imprisoned inside an alternate dimension comprised of nothing but endless stone blocks and torture devices certainly _looked_ like a Reality Marble due to the area reflecting Carmilla’s – no, Elizabeth Bathory’s – manner of execution by being immured for four years, which must have ingrained itself upon her soul. But while she could use basic spells for projectiles, she was by no means a top-tier Magus. Connla figured that this had to be a Bounded Fielded taking on the appearance of stone walls, not a full-fledged Reality Marble.

_Given enough time, I could try to remove the seals and weaken the field with my runes._

She glared at Carmilla.

_Then again, it might just be easier to defeat her. This isn’t a prison that seeks to deplete my energy stores or the like. It’s just a cage that she hopes to constrain me with._

She confidently spun her spear in her hand and got into her battle stance. Carmilla likewise looked eager to fight, daintily coiling her fingers around the hilt of her meat cleaver.

 _Right… She’s just trying to mimic capturing her victims and torturing them to death in a dark dungeon. However, she’s gravely mistaken if she thinks I will be such easy prey for her,_ Connla thought.

They glared at each other for several seconds. The instant one of them made even a millimeter of movement, pure chaos would ensue. Thus, a slight budge was all that was needed to incite them to clash blades faster than the blink of an eye. Carmilla pounced upon Connla with unrelenting speed and grace, but the girl maintained a valiant defense thanks to her polearm having better reach than the cleaver. She used the imaginary walls to her advantage by leaping from side to side like a grasshopper in the hopes of getting in a rear assault.

“Impudent little wretch!” Carmilla seethed, trying to keep her eyes on Connla.

“Tah!” the girl cried out as she propelled herself in a straight line from the wall towards Carmilla, effectively turning herself into a missile that slammed against the woman and caused them to smack against the opposite wall. Although it was only a moment, Carmilla found her chance to swipe her grotesque blade at Connla’s cheek, cleanly slicing through some skin as she jerked her head back.

“Beautiful! Just beautiful!” the countess gasped in ecstasy. “You really do look better covered in blood! Your purity and innocence are a bane to my existence!”

“Is that so? Then…”

With unforgiving malice, Connla ducked low and bashed the non-bladed end of her spear against Carmilla’s jaw, leaving behind a sickening bruise that blemished her otherwise perfect features. She was sent tumbling back on her high heels, grabbing one of the rungs to a torture rack to keep herself upright. She shuddered in pure horror as she pressed her hand against the throbbing skin, devastated as to what such an attack would do to tarnish her ‘perfect’ image.

“How about I draw out the ugliness you’ve been hiding beneath that disgustingly attractive façade,” Connla grimly threatened.

“You…! _You little…!_ ” Carmilla raged quietly, her golden eyes flared with emotion. “Playtime is over! Once I have you in my hands, I’ll slowly peel you like a grape and make you suffer through every moment! Your corpse will be a reminder to this hideous world of what happens when you go against me and the beauty I represent!”

They got into another furious skirmish for several minutes. Although the space was too constricting for Connla to rely on jumping far away from the madwoman, she managed with dizzying hops and svelte twirls to confuse Carmilla before landing more vicious blows. With each consecutive strike, the girl noticed that the Bounded Field would dissipate each time her opponent lost focus. It didn’t take long before Carmilla was so badly wounded that she had to give up maintaining the field to conserve her energy, freeing both of them from the imaginary prison.

“You! What Heroic Spirit are you!?” the countess gasped. “No child should possess the ability to fight so magnificently!”

Connla didn’t respond.

“Kh… **_Damn you!_** ”

Carmilla went into a panicked rage and leapt backwards to jump from building to building, hoping to escape from this little monster.

 _She’s used to killing, but not necessarily to fighting. Her targets have always been helpless and unable to fend for themselves. Trying to kill an experienced warrior must be confounding her,_ Connla thought.

This was good news for her. Showing no mercy in her eyes, she chased after the flying murderer, swiftly running alongside the walls horizontally and jumping impressive distances when she ran out of ground. Carmilla’s eyes widened and her features appeared more stressed as she screamed incoherently, “This can’t be happening! I am immortal! I am the Blood Countess! I will not be defeated here! Your power should be mine! _Lie down and die like the dog you are! Give me your blood! Your life means nothing! **You are no hero! You are an obscurity that should just fade into nothing! DAMN YOU DAMN YOU DAMN YOU DAMN YOO~OOUU!”**_

Carmilla launched hundreds of small black orbs upon the girl that whizzed past her like an imperceptible hailstorm of bullets, shattering windows and peppering the walls with tiny craters in their wake. Connla ceased thinking and let her body do the moving on its own.

 _“Fall like leaves before my blade, sorceress of slaughter!”_ Connla shouted like never before.

The girl reached her stricken enemy and ruthlessly pounded her spear against her like a child batting a piñata. Each strike resounded in the air as thunderous claps, catching the attention of everyone below them. She took the woman’s final desperate onslaught with no fear and turned the chaos back onto her. Her last blow slammed against Carmilla’s midsection and sent her plummeting straight down onto the pavement, cracking it so hard that she sunk a few inches beneath a crater. The pain was absolutely agonizing, as if her very nerves exploded out of shock.

Carmilla struggled to get back up, but she didn’t get any further than a half-sitting position before another shock of intense agony seared through her chest. Connla had descended upon the fallen woman and cleanly impaled her spear through her heart. Carmilla’s eyes widened into massive, bloodshot orbs.

“It can’t… be…” was all she could utter before falling onto her back and staring up at the sky.

Connla extracted her weapon out of the defeated Servant and stood back, waiting to see what would happen next. When Carmilla refused to move, she knew the battle was over and relaxed herself.

“That was for everyone whose lives you ruined,” she declared. “Take that pain with you and suffer for eternity in the next life.”

“Heh… heh heh heh… Suffer, you say? How… _adorably_ naïve you are…” the countess somehow managed to laugh at the girl’s words. “I already suffer. My very existence is suffering itself. Something so beautiful yet disgusting as me should not exist. But here I am, a symbol of humanity’s true, putrid nature. My legend will not die, even though I am someone who deserves to be forgotten – an Anti-Hero who murders for such demonic reasons as beauty and vanity. Yet, do you know what the irony of that is, Nameless One?”

“No.”

“... Are you able to name at least one victim of mine?”

Connla’s eyes widened a little.

“That’s right. The victims of history’s most vile serial murderers are often left unknown, unless their demise is truly horrific and unthinkable for society to comprehend. But in the end, who truly cares? Those nameless victims are the sacrifices for propelling one individual’s legend into infamy. The lives of the innocent, gullible ones do not leave as much of an impact on society as the unspeakable crimes the guilty ones are capable of. It’s only natural; humans are drawn to the unknown, even so far as pushing aside the suffering of the deceased in order to try and understand the mind of a monster in human flesh. Humans always tout morality, yet they ignore the many slaughtered lambs and glorify the few demons such as myself to the point of deification.

“That is what it means to be an Anti-Hero – to amass notoriety by slaughtering ones whose names will be lost to time. While you may stand victorious over me, an innocent, infantile Heroic Spirit such as yourself could never hope to understand my motivations.”

With those parting words, Carmilla’s body shone gold, and her form vanished within millions of tiny light particles. Connla didn’t know what to say in response. She didn’t agree with all of her claims, yet she found it impossible to refute some points.

_The victims of famous killers…_

She thought about when Cuchulainn mercy killed her. The time she spent in death afterwards was quiet - almost frightfully still, but pleasant nonetheless. She thought that was what happened to all heroes when they died. When the World summoned her however, she learned of the Holy Grail Wars and how heroes were called upon to fight for humanity. Up until now, Connla had never been summoned to bear arms against evil. It made her wonder, “How many years had the Wars been occurring while I slept?” She didn’t know, but she realized that although she had a _story_ , she wasn’t considered important enough to be summoned by any Magi due to her not having a _legend_. The man who ended her life, likewise having killed hundreds in wartime, was much more famous and powerful than her, so his legend was preferred over some nobody’s story.

_It makes sense… Even heroes are killers. Their victims are not remembered unless they’re equally strong or famous. It is the culmination of so many deaths that ascend a select few to either heroism or anti-heroism, living on in the memories of future generations._

Connla closed her eyes, sensing her mind wandering off into a dark, far away place.

_That’s why I couldn’t say anything to Carmilla. I don’t have the experience of ending lives to make myself famous, while my death only added to Father’s legend. If I tried to lecture her, I would have just come off as a hypocrite._

She sighed forlornly.

_But then… What is the difference between a Hero and an Anti-Hero anyway?_

The young spearman could not figure it out no matter how hard she tried. Regardless of how wicked or noble a person’s intentions were, the result would be the same – living on as a legend. Those who were nothing special faded into the void never to be mentioned again, even though their joys, frustrations and sorrows had just as much merit as those who were famous. Connla’s heart grew heavy from the conflict brewing deep within her.

She heard Spartacus and Leonidas running up behind her, and the former exclaimed, “Oh, there you are, little miss! Has the oppressor been silenced!?”

“Yes. I took care of things here…” Connla replied shakily.

“Good, good! Once you brought that assassin to justice, the creatures under her command began to flee! One more valiant step for my rebellion against the evils that purged this grand town of its innocent citizenry!”

“This isn’t just _your_ uprising,” Leonidas retorted. “It is _ours_. Cease prattling as if your opinion is the most superior among us. We aren’t just fighting to rid the land of evil either; the many souls that have been lost must be avenged.”

“If it is any consolation for these countless victims, they shall be able to rest in peace now that we have quelled the villain responsible for their demise!”

“Were you not listening to me, you ignorant fool?”

“Countless victims…” the young spearman whispered, thinking of the numerous slaughtered corpses inside McCarran Airport, and of the millions of victims to Heroes and Anti-Heroes who would forever go undocumented.

“Hmm? What appears to be the matter? Your eyes are brimming with passionate tears!” Spartacus exclaimed. Normally he would have argued against Leonidas over his insult, but he was more concerned about the young girl’s mood.

“They are?” she uttered and wiped her eyes. Spartacus was right; she brushed off some salty fluid when she wasn’t expecting it. “Oh my. Pardon me for looking like this.”

“Did that madam butcher say something to upset you? Heh ha ha ha ha! Such is the way of oppressors! They employ tactics both violent and manipulative to ascertain victory over the weak! I know not what venom she spewed at you, but you clearly did not let it poison your mind! You overcame her lies and sent her back to the depths of Hell where she belongs in eternal turmoil! You are, without a doubt, a kindred soul – a fellow rebel against the evils of domination and tyranny!”

“Thank you,” Connla murmured. Spartacus’ bizarre manner of eloquence didn’t completely calm her worries, but she at least felt a little better knowing she wasn’t fighting alone.

“Ohhh, but then it becomes a problem for me!” the grey-skinned man’s eyes practically bugged out of their sockets.

“In what way?”

“I was supposed to protect you because you’re weak! But you were strong enough to defeat that lunatic woman without any assistance from me! Are you strong or weak!? Am I supposed to protect you, or am I to treat you, such a small child, as a fellow rebel who can stand strong even in the fiercest of gladiatorial combat!? Such is the jumble I have found myself within!”

“I don’t think you need to fret about it so much,” Connla assured. “I might not be as powerful as you, but I still want to do what I can with the skills I have.”

“Curses! Such kind words, yet my confusion is still not assuaged!”

“I’m not really sure what to say then…”

“Worry not,” Leonidas grumbled. “He troubles himself over the most mundane of things. There’s no need to affirm everything he says.”

After a pause, Spartacus exclaimed with an even bolder smile than usual, “Wait! That’s it! You’re both strong _and_ weak!”

“I… beg your pardon?” Connla uttered.

“Why did I not think of this earlier!? It is fine for you to be both! Your heart is still as delicate as a newly blossomed flower unaware of the cruelty of being stepped upon, but your mind and body have been forged like steel through what I imagine to be training most unspeakable and grueling!”

 _Can’t argue with him there,_ she thought with a bemused smile, thinking of the many lessons and mock battles that Aife and Scathach put her through.

“Of course! As a defender of the weak, I will see to it that your frail side is safeguarded. When the time is right however, we can stand strong as comrades in the worst of battles! So long as you do not rise to become an oppressor whom I must take down, we shall be mighty comrades in this war against those unspeakable abominations and the masterminds who puppeteer them!”

“That’s fantastic to hear,” she nodded. “But then that begs the question; can we do it with just the three of us? We have no idea what the enemy’s numbers or capabilities are. Sure, Carmilla is gone and we drove off those grey things under her control, but I doubt she can be considered a true mastermind by any stretch. I mean, she was easily defeated by a child like myself. That would never happen to a real king, right?”

“Hmm! So she was nothing more than a flunky! Quite the conundrum indeed, facing the unknown with only the might of three! Well, facing the impossible is naught but the way of life for me!”

“Even with such questionable odds against us, we must sally forth,” Leonidas said firmly. “There is nothing left we can accomplish in this grandiose metropolis.”

“Where shall we take our battle to next then, Spartan?”

“There still must be more of those unsightly beasts around. Perhaps we should extract some clues from them before they can escape.”

“Right up my alley!” Spartacus grinned and eagerly charged further into the city to find his next prey.

“Such rambunctiousness cannot be hoped to be controlled, hm?” Leonidas grumbled. He looked down at Connla, who was teetering on her feet a bit. He said, “You appear tired, Little One. Would you like to take some time to rest?”

“But we’re Heroic Spirits. We shouldn’t be so easily exhausted.”

“Not physically, but perhaps your mind needs some time to recover. Witnessing such savagery must have worn your spirit down.”

“I’m… surprised to hear you say that…” Connla murmured, trying not to offend him. She believed he wasn’t much different than Spartacus, often going on about the importance of training and keeping one’s muscles strong.

“The mind is just as important as the body. If it were not for my intellect and stratagems, I would never have been able to lead my otherwise mindlessly barbaric Spartans in the Battle of Thermopylae.”

“That’s true.”

She now recognized a stark difference between the two men; Leonidas needed a strategy to maintain his legendary defensive battle, while Spartacus was free to move from battle to battle without thinking too much about any planning beyond being stronger than the opponent. She had a hard time understanding why the dichotomy between them was so rough, but putting it in such a perspective allowed it to make more sense to her.

He said, “You must not be used to this kind of brutality, or else you would not have been so upset thinking about the victims. You should rest your mind for a while. Spartacus and I will figure out where we need to go from here.”

“All right,” Connla nodded. “I’ll take a break here. I wouldn’t want my fatigue to slow us down.”

She shuffled into a comfortable position on the ground and closed her eyes, hearing the Spartan’s footsteps grow fainter as he walked away from her. If she was still conscious, she would have been surprised by how quickly she fell asleep.


	7. Submarine Night Terror

**FATE/LAOCH GAN FINSCEAL**

**“Hero Without Legend”**

**Chapter 7: Submarine Night Terror**

The Holy Grail shone bright above an endless sea like a brilliant sun. It wasn’t really the sacred cup that could grant wishes, but this one functioned more as a throne for the one person seated within the brimming contents. However, the goblet wasn’t full of water, mana or wine… but of pure blood. The one who reclined within the blood was a man deteriorating into a demon. He owned the sky and the sea all around him, yet he wasn’t satisfied. He languidly gazed not at the bright skies, but at the dark ocean.

Something was down there, and he wanted to retrieve it. Yet the Holy Grail kept rising higher into the sky, propelling him into unimaginable heights, but also forcing him further and further away from what he actually wanted. He didn’t care about the brilliance of fame and glory waiting for him in the heavens. He would rather dive into hell and get back what he believed was rightfully his.

Far in the bottom of the ocean, away from any potential disturbances, was a small girl who slept peacefully. Due to the insignificance of her life (as far as she believed), she had been cast into darkness and destined to be forgotten as time passed on. She didn’t mind her fate however. This was how it was meant to be. She didn’t know what was going on in the living world, and she figured it didn’t matter to her anymore. She understood that returning from this purgatory would be an affront to the world’s proper course of history, and she certainly didn’t want to disturb the almighty natural order.

The vapid king would not accept it any longer. He would defy that order to drag his lost treasure back to the surface. Responding to his will, the Holy Grail’s bloody contents seeped over the edge and trickled upon the ocean, then poured in a deluge to turn the blue seas into a wine red color. The man fell from his demonic throne and splashed into the ocean. His spiked tail grew larger until they encompassed his slender legs and changed him into a thorny black-finned merman. As he dove deeper and deeper, more scaly plates of black armor encroached his body and covered him until he barely resembled a man anymore. Scales grew around his chin, and a large red horn painfully protruded from his forehead. He paid no heed to the rapid metamorphosis he was going through, focused solely on the treasure waiting for him at the bottom of this imaginary hadal zone.

He passed by countless fish and sea creatures on his way down. They swam away in a hurry to escape from the embodiment of the ocean’s terrifying power. He reached his clawed hand into the watery abyss, seeking to grab the light surrounding the sleeping girl. She looked up to see the sea monster drawing closer and closer, intent on taking her away like prey. She couldn’t move. She had no energy to flee. All she could do was watch him get closer.

He was within arm’s reach of her, and they made eye contact…

* * *

Connla woke up with a quiet jolt.

She was still lying on the sidewalk, but found herself draped beneath Leonidas’ red mantle. He must have placed it on her during the night since she didn’t feel it whatsoever until now. She shuffled to her knees and spent some time breathing to calm her rapidly beating heart. The nightmare was so vivid and disturbing that it would remain in her mind for a long while after.

_What in the world was that?_

She hadn’t stayed asleep long enough to see what the conclusion to her dream was, but she was kind of glad she woke up in time. She twisted her torso and spread her arms out to stretch her tense muscles. After loosening herself up, she leaned against the wall and pondered about the tragically hideous man in the dream.

_Those eyes… Were they… Father’s?_

Connla shook her head and sighed. No, that couldn’t be. Cuchulainn was no monster. He was a man of heroism and nobility. Why would she dream of him being something so grotesque?

_Maybe Teacher’s tales of the legendary sea monster Curruid got mixed in somehow._

Curruid was a creature from Celtic mythology, a Phantasmal Beast that terrorized the waters in ancient times. It had been defeated by another sea creature, Coinchenn, and had its horn utilized as the material for the cursed spear Gae Bolg. The dream of her father becoming Curruid and hunting her down was disturbing to be sure, but that didn’t mean it had to be grounded in reality.

_How silly of me. I shouldn’t get so worked up over a nightmare._

* * *

At the very same time Connla woke up, a man’s eyes shot open.

He spent a few minutes staring at the ceiling in disbelief from the dream he just had. He covered his face with his hand and groaned to fight away the headache pounding in his cranium. He was drenched in sweat, so he sat up on his bed to work out the kinks in his muscles. Although he wasn’t fully clothed, his body was covered in scaly black armor and spikes, and a long centipede-like tail protruded from his hind side. He actually didn’t look much different than he did in the nightmare.

_That wasn’t her, was it?_

What neither Connla nor the man knew was that they just shared the same dream, taking on their roles as the sea monster and the treasure at the bottom of the ocean which he sought after. Vertigo kicked in and he held on to the nearest wall to steady himself.

_I know I made that wish… I’m positive I told the Holy Grail what I wanted… So why has it not come true yet…? Will I be denied when it is the one time I have been selfish enough to wish for something that goes against the rules of this world?_

He snarled in frustration and took a deep breath to regain his composure. Regardless of his out of control emotions, he still had a job to do. Now fully awake, he grabbed his fringed hood and wrapped it around his head to conceal most of his face.

* * *

In the command center of Area 51, numerous monitors lit the dim room that displayed various locations all throughout Nevada. Seated in the commander’s seat was a tanned man wearing numerous baubles and accessories around his body. His skin was covered in tattoos, and he wore a mantle that wrapped around his arms and loose-fitting robes with embroidered patterns from his waist down.

The woman who stood near him was shorter than him and was much more fair-skinned than him. She had long platinum blonde hair tied in both a hair bun at the back of her head and a braid that hugged the crown. Her large hooped earrings and sharp green eyes clearly expressed her aberrant personality and disdain for lower class beings. She wore a criss-cross halterneck dress that exposed her midriff, a sheer capelet over her shoulders, and various pieces of jewelry such as a necklace and bracelets.

“Well, well,” the woman murmured. “It seems we’ve let some mice play while we were focused on the cats in Carson.”

“What is going on, Caster?” the man asked.

“Take a look for yourself, Lord Xerxes.”

The king of ancient Persia narrowed his thin eyes and glared at the screens showing different views of Las Vegas. He was surprised to see the frenzy of battle going on in the Strip, along with shots of Carmilla fighting against Connla in their epic duel. Caster said, “We’ve got some late arrivals to the party, it seems. Furthermore, it doesn’t look like they’re connected with the Heroic Spirits summoned in Carson.”

“How many new Servants were summoned?”

“We performed a city-wide sweep and only picked up three unique signatures.”

“Only three!? Yet Carmilla and an entire army of America’s extraterrestrials lost to them!?”

“Why are you acting so surprised?” a second male’s voice boredly asked. Xerxes looked back to find a tall man covered in scaly dark armor and dozens of thin spikes. His massive tail swept back and forth, and his ruby red eyes shone beneath his hood to illuminate the darkness around him. He grinned broadly, showing his teeth to be jagged and spiky, as he continued, “Carmilla was a worthless wench more suitable for torture, not for real combat. It was your mistake to send such a neophyte knowing that more Servants could be summoned to challenge us.”

“Hmph. I have no control over how or where Servants are summoned. I only sent her to the testing ground two days before those Servants arrived. If I had known they would have shown up, I certainly would have called Carmilla back.”

“Making excuses? Not very fitting for a king.”

“I don’t want to hear that from a false king who only thinks about mass destruction.”

“Feh, bully to you,” the scaled fellow chuckled at Xerxes’ comeback, barely appearing fazed or insulted. “Well, I only have faint memories of that time. Being king isn’t as important to me as finding the next battlefield.”

“So it would seem. That’s why you’re the Mad Hound of Ulster…”

Xerxes glared at the man.

“Cuchulainn Alter.”

The visitor stepped into the light of the many monitors surrounding them, revealing himself to be the Berserker-class version of Cuchulainn. He was very similar to the time when Queen Medb made a wish for the one man she yearned for to exist as a king as cruel and powerful as herself. Back then, Cuchulainn’s conquest for colonial America meant nothing more to him than a mindless raid of carnage, while he sought either for a worthy opponent to kill him or for him to destroy everything. He didn’t treat combat as an enjoyable endeavor like he did as a Lancer. It was nothing more than mindless paperwork; a tedious task that needed to be completed so he could move on to the next thing. He didn’t find any joy in fighting battle after battle, feeling increasingly bored with it all and just wanting to find a place to die.

In this world however, Cuchulainn did not emerge as a king. He agreed to work as Xerxes’ general for the Servant and alien armies they had amassed within Area 51. His inverted personality remained largely intact however, although he seemed to have grown contemptuous towards his superior’s lack of foresight and constantly underestimating the enemy. Cuchulainn was not like that; the moment someone treated him as a threat, he would spare no mercy for them, not feeling satisfied until the unfortunate sap laid as a pile of bloody pieces at his feet.

For the last while though, he was growing impatient with the blatantly one-sided war against modern America. It wasn’t until a resistance group had been formed in Carson City to the west that he began to pay any semblance of attention to this conquest. Unfortunately, the Servant he had been looking for was not there, so he lost interest and sent his own forces to deal with them. He didn’t care if they succeeded or failed, and his detached demeanor was starting to get on his comrades’ nerves. The only reason he drummed up the patience to listen to Xerxes’ complaining was because he overheard Caster’s report of the appearance of unknown Servants in Las Vegas.

“So then,” Cuchulainn said as he folded his arms, “do you know the identities of these new Servants?”

“We know two of them for sure,” Caster smiled and displayed Leonidas and Spartacus’ faces on the screens. “One is the Spartan hero whom Lord Xerxes knows very well.”

“So the barbaric cur who attempted to defy my kingdom’s influence has returned for another match with me,” Xerxes sighed in frustration. “Even if he caused me great embarrassment at Thermopylae, I can only feel sorry for him. Only a fool would not understand the importance of surrendering as how the majority of the Greek city-states did during my reign.”

“It takes just as equal of a fool to have a force of 100,000 held at a standstill by only 300,” Cuchulainn snarked.

“Pah. I also had to contend with the straits of Artemisium. Fighting a two-front war against unpredictable idiots is not an easy task, mind you. I only broke through due to the advice of a Spartan traitor.”

“If you say so.”

Caster continued, “The second Servant is Spartacus, a rebellious ingrate who caused trouble for Rome about 100 years before I was born. He led a fruitless uprising against the Romans, but has been hailed a hero regardless. I still cannot understand how in the nine hells an unsightly bruiser like him can be considered anything except a mindless ape howling for the downtrodden. Does he not understand how this world works? Those who are the descendants of the gods are destined to rule over the meek and worthless hordes.”

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard enough of your elitist conjecture to give me an ulcer,” Cuchulainn dismissed her with a bored wave.

“Of course you wouldn’t understand. Son of Lugh aside, you lived your life as Ulster’s faithful dog, feeding off the scraps that your king allowed you to have.”

“Spare me your disdain, harlot. I don’t care about anything other than knowing who our enemies are. If you say you know who two of the new Servants are, then what is the problem with the third?”

“The third Servant…” Caster frowned and displayed shots of Connla fighting against Carmilla. “To my knowledge, I have never heard of a Lancer who is as young as a seven-year old child, yet fights on par with warriors of similar skill levels.”

“She was the one who defeated Carmilla,” Xerxes said. “She didn’t use a Noble Phantasm either, so we have no information to go on about her identity. It is as if the World is mocking me by summoning an anonymous Heroic Spirit.”

“She _must_ be documented in the Throne of Heroes, or else she would never have been summoned.”

“Even if her power is on par with real heroes, her presence is as insignificant as if she were an ordinary person with no remarkable history backing her up. She is no better than a fly in the presence of a king such as myself.”

“Of course. The only reason a weak little girl like her won against Carmilla was because the Blood Countess had no experience with fighting a real war. I will try to figure out who she is, but I don’t believe you should waste your time and resources worrying about her. Taking care of the Servants from Carson City should be of higher priority than this motley crew of riff-raff in Las Vegas.”

“Hmph… While the lack of knowledge about any Servant is troubling, stamping out the northwestern front is of greater importance. If the two groups were to meet, then we may have problems. We cannot allow both factions to unite as one. Don’t you agree, Cuchulainn?”

While Xerxes and Caster were busy conversing with each other, Cuchulainn’s dilated eyes were fixated on the images of Connla. He stared in abject astonishment at the presence of his daughter fighting for her life against Carmilla and the aliens she had been given command of. As it registered in his mind, his clenched teeth formed into a light smile, and his sour mood lifted all of a sudden. Multiple creases formed on his forehead and around his eyes as the pangs of _riastrad_ threatened to take hold of his sanity. He wanted to laugh in newfound joy, but resisted the urge.

_She’s here… She’s finally come as a Servant!_

“Cuchulainn!” Caster barked. “Lord Xerxes is asking you a question!”

“Hm? Oh, right. Don’t worry, they won’t ever get the chance to meet,” the dark-armored Berserker assured. “The northwestern front is definitely stronger in their numbers and variety of Servants. But didn’t you send in someone to spy on their boss?”

“She hasn’t reached back to me yet,” Xerxes muttered. “I am afraid of such a woman turning against me however…”

“This is what you get for sending a whore to do such delicate work. Women are nothing but fickle creatures who tout their sexuality, yet submit themselves so easily to a man they find attractive. Waiting for that spy’s report is not worth the time when I can just stamp them out easily.”

“I don’t appreciate you spitting such slander in my presence,” Caster retorted.

“And what are you going to do about it? The idea of you being strong enough to punish me for my opinions is laughable.”

“Tch…” She didn’t like his attitude, but he wasn’t wrong either.

“I’ve grown tired of conversing with you lot,” Cuchulainn grumbled. “Since I’m in such a good mood however, I think I’ll have some fun with the rebels. I’ll be borrowing some of your aliens to use as cannon fodder. Catch you later.”

He grinned and turned away from Xerxes and Caster, walking through the hallways of Area 51 in silence. He had trouble caring about Xerxes’ silly little conquest, but he didn’t want anyone else to know what his real intentions were, thus the need to keep up his charade of loyalty. In his mind, getting rid of every other obstacle – ally and enemy alike - meant that he could free himself up to do what he felt was most important. He just needed to play his part as the general of this mock empire a little bit longer…

“Cuchulainn.”

“Hm?” the Berserker’s attention was drawn towards another man who was leaning on the wall nearby. This fellow had short black hair, tanned skin, and wore basic blue-and-red archer’s garments with a large bow and a quiver of arrows strapped to his back. Cuchulainn grumbled, “What do you want, Arash?”

“I wanted to report that W.E. and his group of Servants are beginning to move east. They’ve completely secured Carson City from DeWolf’s forces and are seeking to take control of this facility back into the American government’s hands.”

“So DeWolf screwed up, huh? Wasn’t expecting much from him anyway.”

James DeWolf, the infamous slave trader who killed a slave on the basis that they had smallpox, had been summoned as a Rider in this conflict and sided with Xerxes, eager to profit off the backs of others once again. He had been sent to deal with the enemy forces, but from Arash’s words, Cuchulainn could tell that DeWolf must have failed miserably.

“If you plan on attacking the rebels, I figured you should at least know that much,” Arash said.

“Don’t worry. I’ve had absolutely no faith in Xerxes’ cronies right from the get-go. I’m more than prepared to clean up their messes when needed.”

“Such bitterness… By the way, I wanted to ask you about Las Vegas. Is it true that he sent Carmilla to decimate that city?”

“It was a test run for the alien forces that the Americans had been breeding in secret.”

“Was it really necessary to kill so many people just for a trial!?”

“Why are you complaining to me about it? It’s your precious Persian king who ordered it.”

“You know full well that massacring innocent civilians won’t accomplish anything!”

“Yeah, I know… And I don’t really care.”

“What are you talking about!?” the archer exclaimed.

“Think of it as his message to the Americans; that their own government hid the truth, and that this is their punishment for allowing such technology to go unnoticed for so long. If Xerxes didn’t do it, I’m sure the American government would have done it under false pretenses eventually. They always have, and they always will – America thrives on misleads and fakery. If the citizens of this infantile nation cannot come to accept such a truth, then it will destroy them unless they submit to him. That’s always been Xerxes’ strategy; demonstrate his might and make the enemy surrender their territory to him in fear.”

“But even so-”

“I’m not the one you should be bellyaching to. I’ve got important business to attend to, so I have no time to lend an ear to your pitiful concerns,” Cuchulainn dismissed him and stormed away.

His foul mood had returned after having to deal with Arash’s unrelenting questioning. He told himself numerous times to not turn violent against his ‘comrades’, but it was getting increasingly frustrating to have to baby-sit a bunch of complacent fools who had no concept of what real war was like. He wanted to tell them many times that this was not like a friendly game of chess; the pieces on this board were real, and they had to be destroyed as soon as possible to ascertain victory. Such things like surrender and manipulation through fear were not Cuchulainn’s way of fighting large-scale conflicts.

_Such idiocy…_

* * *

At the barren border between Esmeralda and Nye counties, another man stood upon the hills facing east. His messy white hair and black trench coat swayed in the desert wind, although it was pleasantly cool due to it being in the middle of the night. He had a large black sword with an arc at the end strapped to his back, giving him a much more intimidating look than his pale blue eyes could hope to soften.

_I’m about halfway there, aren’t I?_

He let out a sigh and took out a map of the local area.

_It’s good that the enemy forces haven’t noticed me, but I wish he would have picked someone faster than me to run such an important errand. If I don’t hurry, I might be too late in recruiting those new Servants._

The young man leapt forth, leaving a trail of flying dust in his wake.

_Well, this is certainly better than just being summoned to kill. Performing other Assassin-like duties isn’t so bad once in a while._

He continued on a southeast path through Nye County, which would take him the better part of the night before he could reach his intended destination in Clark County, where Las Vegas was.


	8. Desolation of Multiple Kinds

**FATE/LAOCH GAN FINSCEAL**

**“Hero Without Legend”**

**Chapter 8: Desolation of Multiple Kinds**

The next morning came, with the sun gradually turning the dim skies from navy blue to the pleasant sky color, mixed in with the yellows and oranges associated with the dawn hours. After shaking off the grogginess from the intense dream she had, Connla unleashed a large yawn and stretched her arms above her head. She was ready to take on the new day, but she wasn’t sure where to go from here. Leonidas and Spartacus were nowhere in sight, and she didn’t want to take off anywhere and force them to waste energy looking for her. She gazed at the brightening sky, feeling pangs of nostalgia hit her heart.

_It was like this too… when I died…_

Connla remained silent for a good while, feeling the light breeze brush against her hair and clothes. She tightly held Leonidas’ cape against her chest to fight against the anxiety. Before she could get too lost in her thoughts however, she heard heavy footsteps approaching her. Spartacus hurried over and exclaimed, “You’re finally awake, little miss! Perfect! The Spartan told me to come retrieve you posthaste!”

“What’s going on? Did you find out anything about the alien mob?” she asked.

“I’m afraid I didn’t get much from beating more of them up, although I noticed that they kept fleeing northward to escape my boundless wrath!”

“North?” Connla wondered. “Maybe their base of operations is in that direction.”

“If the madam butcher who was controlling them is out of the picture, then they’d have to return to their hideout where the real boss is waiting to give them new orders.”

“I agree. Their intelligence is limited, but they must have been ingrained with a mindset to obey _someone’s_ orders, not to just do whatever they wish. We should follow them and see where they take us.”

“Indeed! Leonidas had the same idea!”

“Where is he anyway?”

Spartacus pointed north up the Strip and said, “He’s trying to figure out how to commandeer these unusual steel chariots that have been left for us.”

He guided her down the road until they reached Trump International Hotel. To her surprise, she noticed that a lot of abandoned vehicles had sustained copious amounts of external damage such as the hoods being crushed in or tires being blown out from overuse. The damage looked very similar from car to car, so she wasn’t really sure what was going on. That was until she heard the distinct squealing of rubber scraping against pavement, and a nearby SUV suddenly barreled straight for the duo!

“Wha-!?” Connla gasped as she and Spartacus leapt out of the way. The vehicle careened out of control and slammed against the wall of the resort hotel, releasing plumes of smoke from the destroyed engine. The door flew open, and Leonidas stumbled out.

“Damn, this is no good as well!” he barked furiously. “Why must these metal chariots be so convoluted to commandeer!?”

 _Oh, I get it now,_ Connla thought. _He was the one who totaled all of these strange wagons._

“Hey, I got the little miss!” Spartacus exclaimed. “Have you figured out how to ride these things yet!?”

“Have patience, Thracian!” Leonidas bellowed. “I am getting the hang of it, but I’m still trying to find a chariot that can help us follow those creatures with impeccable speed!”

“You better do it quick, or else we will lose our only lead.”

“Hm?” Connla looked over at a large bag near Spartacus’ feet. “What do you have there?”

“Provisions, of course!” he declared and showed her a large number of food items he stole from the nearby hotels such as meat, bread, and plenty of wine.

“But we’re Heroic Spirits. All we need is mana to sustain ourselves.”

“Yeah, but why not live a little while we’re here? Nothing goes great with a rebellion like good food and drink!”

“I don’t mind the food, but I’m too young for the drink.”

“Aw, who cares about that?”

“I do!” she retorted and put her hands on her hips. “Mother told me I couldn’t drink until I was 18!”

“Even though she is nowhere near us, she still restrains your natural human desires with such oppressive commands! Strict parents are quite the dictators indeed!”

“You shouldn’t say that about her! Sure, she was overbearing at times, but I still respect her!”

“What a problem. I do not take kindly to those who stifle others, yet I cannot deny how much esteem you have for your primary birth giver. Well, I suppose it is something that cannot be rebelled against, no matter how much I wish it so. Very well – I won’t force you to drink if you do not want to.”

“…”

Connla suddenly became quiet as their nonsensical conversation made her think about Aife. It was true that she missed her mother, but at the same time, a strange discord strummed in her soul that made her feel nauseous. She could sort of understand where it was coming from, but it wasn’t entirely clear to her just yet.

They heard another set of wheels screech to a stop nearby, and Leonidas called out to them from a pickup truck, “I think this chariot will do the job for us nicely.”

“Splendid!” Spartacus exclaimed, then hoisted his bag of rations into the cargo area before getting on and lying back. “Do not mind me. I will remain here and feast to my heart’s content. Rebellions cannot be fought on an empty stomach, after all! Heh hah hah hah!”

Connla didn’t say anything as she got in the passenger seat. Leonidas managed to get a handle on his new vehicle and drove them out of the Strip and northwest onto Route 95. This was the general direction which Spartacus claimed the remaining aliens fled toward as he chased them down. Although they had no idea where they really were going, at least it was a decent start for the unlikely trio.

* * *

“Hmmngh… Ghh…” Xerxes groaned and pressed his hand upon his forehead. He had been trying to keep up with everything that the monitors were showing him, but an unusual headache made his eyes blurry.

“What is the matter?” Caster asked him, gingerly placing her hand on his shoulder.

“I do not know… For some reason, I have not been feeling well,” he murmured and took another sip of arak that she had brought him earlier.

“Perhaps you’re just tired. You should take the time to rest. I will handle things until you are well enough again.”

“Indeed. I must excuse myself now.”

The Persian king got up and left the command room to return to his quarters. Caster watched him leave, then glanced over at the glass of alcohol he just drank out of. She smiled a little, knowing that the poison she slipped in the beverage was doing its work on him. It wasn’t just now either; during the entirety of Xerxes’ conquest, Caster had been slowly poisoning him the same way she had done to her own emperor daughter. It was only now that the effects were beginning to be apparent. She wanted to laugh at how clueless Xerxes was for not noticing such duplicity.

_At least he is a better puppet king than Nero was. How thrilling it is, having the power to dominate both the masses and the royalty._

Treachery aside, Caster had to focus on what was going on right now. Cuchulainn was busy dealing with the other group of Servants coming from Carson City, but she grew troubled when she saw the lone pickup truck driving along the freeway. The mana signature readings showed that the three new Heroic Spirits were in that car and were on their way to confront whoever was responsible for the carnage in Las Vegas.

_This could be a problem. Xerxes is ill and Cuchulainn is away. I could probably have Archer deal with them, but that man is sharp. He would know right away what I am doing to Xerxes. He could even use it as leverage against me…_

As Caster pondered what to do, she heard the door open again. Arash entered and said, “Madam Caster, I saw Lord Xerxes just now. Is he doing all right?”

“Worry not. He’s just fatigued from concentrating all of his efforts into expanding his desired West Persian Empire,” Caster said with an even tone. “By the way, he told me to give you your next assignment. It’s a one-man job, but he’s willing to lend you some of the gunner aliens in reserve.”

“What does he want me to do?”

“See this?” she pointed to the monitor with the pickup. “They are coming this way from the southeast. Lord Xerxes wants you to shoot them down before they can get any further.”

“Does he now?” Arash wondered. “I don’t mind, but I would prefer to hear such orders from him directly.”

“I am his proxy. My words are just as good as his.”

The archer sighed, but didn’t argue with her. Although he didn’t know her True Name, he could tell that she was nothing but trouble. He almost felt like he would get sick at any moment if he remained near her any longer, like she was that poisonous friend who pretended to be nice but was eager to stab others’ backs on a whim.

_Lord Xerxes orders the destruction of a city just to test run some monsters, Cuchulainn only seeks to kill, and Caster is obviously scheming something. I cannot image the horrors that a black-hearted man like Archer is capable of either, given that he betrayed this nation’s government to secure this facility._

Arash left Caster be and prepared to head out to his next assignment. Despite the task he was given, he had mixed feelings about actually fulfilling it for his crooked superiors. He had pondered about leaving Xerxes’ faction and siding with the rebels, but he figured it wouldn’t be wise to reach out to them when Cuchulainn’s attention was focused on defeating them. Seeing the three stray Servants on the other hand started to give him some ideas.

_Perhaps I could resort to asking for their assistance…_

* * *

As Leonidas continued driving along Route 95, Spartacus feasted on a hearty meal of bread, meat and wine, practically finishing off all of the food before collapsing onto his back in a drunken stupor and falling asleep. Leonidas glared back at the sleeping Thracian and barked, “Honestly! That deadweight is completely plastered!”

“It can’t be helped,” Connla shook her head. “He must’ve been restraining himself this whole time.”

“Hmph. Well, at least it’ll keep him quiet for a little while.”

They continued driving along the Nevada desert for the next few hours. Spartacus snored the whole way, completely lost in an entertaining dream. Leonidas kept his focus on the road, while Connla blankly gazed through the window at the miles upon miles of bleak brown landscape dotted with rocks, cacti, and sparse vegetation. Both her eyes and heart felt heavy. Ever since winding up in this strange timeline, she hadn’t had a chance to sit down and think about what happened in her previous life.

_Father…_

Connla’s last memory was seeing Cuchulainn’s pained expression right before he cut her throat to end her misery. After her passing, she felt like she was in some kind of limbo state, wanting to wake up, yet also refusing to awaken at the same time. Her duel with him was so intense that it drained virtually all of her energy, and that it would take a _long_ time for her to recover, if at all. She wasn’t a hero who had power on par with Gilgamesh, Heracles, Medea, or similar who had famous legends backing them up. She was only a small child with a short vignette to be remembered by. Perhaps she had a matured mind, but her body wasn’t capable of keeping up with real Heroic Spirits should she get involved in a true one-on-one battle. She believed her victory over Carmilla was just a fluke thanks to the woman’s inexperience with fighting.

_Why am I here?_

That question kept running through Connla’s mind. An answer never came to her, which only served to exponentially fester her lingering doubts. She thought she would sink into an inescapable depression at any moment.

“… Little One.”

“Hmm?” she looked over at Leonidas.

“You look troubled. Or rather, I’ve noticed that you’ve appeared distressed ever since we met. If you’d like, you may express your concerns to me.”

“I don’t know how much that will help.”

“Come now. Even if there is no immediate solution to be found, just the simple act of listening may just be what is needed. A real warrior trains not only the muscles on his body, but also the muscles inside his head. A sharp mind is just a vital as a sharp blade.”

“If you say so,” Connla murmured, then said, “I’m just wondering why I’m involved in this fight.”

“Meaning?”

“You and Spartacus are famous historical figures, and a lot of Servants summoned to such crises like this are so revered and powerful. In contrast, I only appeared briefly in my father’s legend. Don’t such side characters usually just get ignored? If I didn’t accomplish much during my life, then what am I expected to do now as a Servant?”

Leonidas raised an eyebrow, and his mouth furrowed into a deep frown. “I’m not sure I understand exactly where you’re coming from. If you are forbidden from speaking your name, could you at least tell me what happened to you?”

“Oh, that’s right. I guess I should cover that.”

Connla spent some time explaining her story in detail to him, from the moment she left her home in Scotland to when Cuchulainn mercy killed her. She wasn’t specific about the names of everyone involved though, for it would likewise break her vow to the geas. Even so, Leonidas understood the gist of her tale enough to see why she was so upset.

“What a waste of potential,” he grumbled. “Why in the world would your own mother place such harsh restrictions on you before sending you on your way to find your father?”

The girl sighed. Back when she was about to leave Scotland for Ireland, Aife had summoned her to place the three geasa upon her. Connla didn’t question her mother’s motive, for Aife claimed that the sigils would give her greater power in a battle so long as she upheld her vows. But when she thought about the nature of the geasa and the whole point of using those specific restrictions, she could only come to one conclusion.

“Back before I was born, Father defeated Mother in a battle. She demanded that he kill her to preserve her honor, but he spared her life. Before he returned home, he left her pregnant with me and gave her two instructions; to give me the name of his choosing, and for me to go to his side as a fellow warrior when I was old enough to wear this ring that he left behind.”

She took off the glove on her right hand and looked at the golden ring on her thumb. “It was the one thing binding Father and I together. I always looked to it whenever I thought of him, wondering just what kind of man he was like. I couldn’t wait to grow up enough to fulfill the promise. But when I think about Mother’s behavior as she raised me, I can’t forget the signs of her bitterness towards Father. She must have hated him so much for besmirching her honor.”

“Ah… Then those strange spells she placed on you were-”

“Her way of tormenting him.”

Connla sullenly closed her eyes. “In a way, I was like Mother’s personal Holy Grail; a tool granting her wish for revenge against Father. It makes me wonder that for all the time Mother doted on me and trained me in the art of war, did she actually never love me? Did I remind her too much of Father for her to let go of her grudge? It was her machinations that wound up denying me my future, and yet I still love Mother.”

“Little One…”

“Is it wrong for me to love someone who was so wicked enough to do this to me? Should I actually hate her for cutting my story short just to inflict suffering upon Father?”

Leonidas audibly scoffed and retorted, “Nonsense. It is a child’s duty to love and respect their parents unconditionally. Although your parents’ feelings for each other are misguided, your feelings for them are not. The blame rests with them for not resolving their issues, instead pushing their strife upon your small shoulders.”

“Hmm…”

“To answer about why you are here… To be honest, it’s too broad of a question for me to respond to. Maybe it’s too much for anyone asking themselves that to figure out. Hell, I’m wondering what my own purpose is in this battle. And what does it matter if you’re a famous Heroic Spirit or not? You’re here to protect the world from whatever evil plagues it. What else would you want to know beyond that? Why don’t you see this as an opportunity to demonstrate your skills in a new battlefield?”

“In other words, ‘don’t think about it too much’?”

“Precisely! It’s fine not to know all of the answers. All you need is information about what is immediately in front of you, and then deal with it in a way that you emerge victorious.”

Leonidas chuckled at himself and muttered, “That sounds like such a meatheaded answer, doesn’t it?”

Connla sighed and smiled lightly. “No, it’s perfectly reasonable. I guess philosophy wasn’t my strongest point either.”

“I suppose it isn’t for any of us three. We’re the types to leave the serious thinking to the eggheads and worry about defeating the enemy.”

“Except we don’t have any ‘eggheads’ to rely upon.”

“Indeed. While it is imperative that we put the enemy down, we must also think about finding other Servants who are willing to assist us. There is much we do not know at this point.”

* * *

In the desolate community of Amargosa Valley, Arash and a small group of gun-wielding aliens arrived by using a one-way teleporter stationed in Area 51. Even in normal conditions, the town was only populated by around 1500 people, but the recent crises in Las Vegas and Carson City immediately drove the citizens of local rural villages like this out, effectively turning such places into temporary ghost towns. He figured this would be the perfect spot for his showdown since no one would get hurt and it was along the same highway the trio were driving along.

_They should be here soon._

Arash leapt atop the well-known Rocket Diner billboard next to the Area 51 Alien Travel Center and gazed westward at the huge stretch of road reaching into the barren distance. The moment he saw any vehicles coming, he would be poised and ready with his bow and arrow.

* * *

Connla yawned and rubbed her eyes, moaning, “Goodness, this road seems to go on forever…”

“Honestly,” Leonidas grumbled in similar frustration. “There still have been no signs of the enemy. I sincerely hope my calculations are not wrong.”

The girl noticed a road sign up ahead and read aloud, “Amargosa Valley? This must be a town.”

“Let us stop here and see if we can get more information.”

As they came closer and closer to the town however, their plans would take a drastic change. Once Arash saw the truck, he fired his arrow straight for one of the wheels, bursting it into pieces with a deafening popping sound.

“Uwah!?” Connla yelped as the truck suddenly veered off the road and tumbled onto its side violently. Leonidas growled and tried to regain control of the vehicle, but it was no use.

 ** _“Whoa ho ho ho!!”_** Spartacus cried out with an unusually elated tone. He had been rudely awakened after being thrown out of the pickup’s cargo area and crashing upon the dirt. Although he sustained some scratches and open wounds, it was nothing that would deter him in the long run.

Leonidas grunted in pain, pressing his dislocated shoulder against his seat to pop the joint back into place. Connla had passed out for a second, but was otherwise unhurt. He grabbed her waist and hoisted her through the upturned door window while asking, “Are you all right?”

“I think so.”

An arrow suddenly pierced the crashed pickup inches away from Connla’s feet, and the duo scrambled to get out before they could be sniped. They ducked on the opposite side and hid behind the truck so it could function as a shield.

“Ho hoh! It seems fortune smiles upon us once again!” Leonidas grinned and put his helmet back on.

“I would rather be blessed by a fortune that doesn’t involve sharp projectiles!” Connla retorted just as several more arrows peppered the area.

“Hah hah! They’re not as sharp as your wit!”

“Geez! What are we going to do!?”

“Fear not! Stay behind me, and I shall advance with my shield!”

“What about Spartacus?”

“Oh yes. I almost forgot about him. Where is he anyway?”

“Hmm…” the young spearman looked around, then pointed at the distance. “He’s charging straight in while laughing like a maniac.”

“Should I be surprised at this point?” the Spartan grumbled. “Regardless, he shall serve as an effective distraction. Come, Little One! To arms!”

The duo emerged from behind the truck and ran straight for their next battle.


	9. Southeastern United Front

**FATE/LAOCH GAN FINSCEAL**

**“Hero Without Legend”**

**Chapter 9: Southeastern United Front**

Similar to Amargosa Valley, another town named Luning was situated between Hawthorne and Mina, just southeast of Carson City. Unlike Amargosa however, Luning had declined so much that many people mistook it for a ghost town. It wasn’t, technically speaking, but the very few people who lived here had already fled from the infamous alien hordes that ransacked the state’s two largest cities. That didn’t mean the town was quiet – it was the stage for another confrontation between the rebel Servants and Xerxes’ forces.

“Damn it… There’s too many of them,” a moustached, tanned man in traditional cowboy attire grumbled. He hid behind the small post office and returned fire with his pistol whenever the flurry of enemy bullets calmed down.

“Good grief,” a brown-haired Lancer wearing black armor and a green tunic complained while scratching his shaggy hair. “This sort of excitement is too much for an old man like me.”

“How long d’ya plan on sittin’ ‘round an’ complainin’, Hektor?”

“Well even you would know that we’re seriously outmatched here, Sheriff. They’ve whipped out the big guns for us. I doubt even a Trojan Horse offering will fool them at this point.”

“So yer just gonna sit there an’ give up? Didn’t think the hero of the Trojan War would be so lackin’ in gusto.”

“No, no, I haven’t given up anything. I’m just being painfully aware of our circumstances.”

“So what d’ya plan on doin’? As an Archer, I can’t do much else than take cover an’ snipe them freaks t’kingdom come.”

“Of course. No one would expect the hero of the O.K. Corral shootout to do other than that. You just leave the infantry to me, Mr. Earp.”

“If only this were as simple as a bloomin’ feud b’tween lawmen an’ cowboys,” Wyatt Earp, the infamous deputy sheriff representing the Wild West’s most tumultuous days, growled. “I sure hope Sanson’ll git his butt back ‘ere with reinforcements.”

“Oh? Now you’re the one complaining,” Hektor grinned.

“Shut yer trap an’ git yer ass out there!”

“Right, right.”

Hektor shuffled to his feet and ran as fast as he could through Luning, leaving Earp behind to fend for himself. He loaded a few more bullets into his gun, then fired more rounds that hit their marks. Although the battle looked hopeless, he was well-known for having extremely high luck since he was the only one who came out unscathed in the gunfight that marked his name on the Throne of Heroes. He didn’t feel like he belonged in such an outrageous war, but he would do his job nonetheless.

_Nothin’ like a good canteen o’ale and Mata Hari’s company t’look forward to after this hullabaloo is over._

While he was preoccupied with thoughts about booze and women, he heard something shuffling behind him. He turned his head around to see what it was. Something large and dark obscured his vision of the stifling bright Nevada sun.

_“Yer-!?”_

Earp didn’t get to finish what he was saying before a familiar red lance shot through his chest and pierced his heart, killing him instantly. His death expression was wide-eyed and horrified as he burned the image of his killer milliseconds before dying. His body disintegrated in golden light particles as he returned to the Throne.

“That was too easy,” Cuchulainn grumbled monotonously. “To think such a weak man could stifle Xerxes for so long goes to show how pathetic his strategies are.”

He heard footsteps approaching him in a running fashion, and he looked over to see a gorgeous woman with long brown hair standing there in disbelief. She was Mata Hari, the contradictory spy who didn’t commit espionage through secrecy and tactics, but with flagrant sex appeal and charm. If Cuchulainn had appeared as any other class, he would have been very attracted to the scantily-clad Dutch-born dancer with bewitching cleavage, figure and legs. As a Berserker however, he found her hedonistic appearance to be tedious and cliché.

“What is this!?” Mata Hari exclaimed.

“… Who the hell are you?”

She looked around to see if any other Servants were nearby. Most of them were either dead or fighting losing battles in the distance. Once she was sure she was safe, she exclaimed, “General Cuchulainn! I did not know you were coming so soon! I was about to send all of the information I got out of Earp to Xerxes so we could plan our next strategy! You should have known that, right!?”

His expression was apathetic as he glared at her with chilly eyes. He knew it was dangerous to say anything to a two-faced woman like Mata Hari, so he didn’t respond to her flurry of exclamations. Instead, he raised Gae Bolg and pointed it at her chin, alarming her. She uttered, “What’s… going on…?”

“I would think a smart lady like you would know what’s going on.”

“But didn’t you know I was Xerxes' spy!? We’re on the same side here!”

“Not a clue,” Cuchulainn coldly grinned. He was lying, of course, but he didn’t care. “And even if I did know, I’m doing you a favor by treating you as the enemy. That way you wouldn’t be exposed.”

“No…” the dancer shuddered in terror. She realized that charming _this_ opponent was not going to work, and she was not a capable fighter at all despite being an Assassin-class Servant.

“Now do me a favor in return; shut up and die.”

With that, he jammed Gae Bolg clean through Mata Hari’s chest, spewing blood all over her voluptuous figure. She vanished the same way that Earp did, and Cuchulainn whipped the blood off his spear with a forceful swing in an arc.

“Pathetic. All of you are just goddamn pathetic,” he growled at no one in particular. “Not even worth my time.”

As he said that, he thought back to seeing Connla’s images and of the excitement he felt upon knowing she was here. Despite the new form he had taken on and the immense power it gave him, he knew fully well that she was probably the only Servant around who could give him a decent challenge. Before all of this began, he had made a wish upon the Holy Grail sealed deep within Area 51. It came halfway true, but there was a catch; she couldn’t just be automatically recorded in the Throne of Heroes with no legend to give her any basis. If he wanted Connla to be documented alongside him, she needed to create a legend worth being recognized. If she failed, she would go back to the depths of obscurity and never be seen again.

_This_ was what Cuchulainn was so invested in. To make his wish come true, he set up this entire stage for her, with him even playing the role of the penultimate villain she needed to defeat. All of this nonsense with Xerxes, Earp, resistance groups, empires, aliens and whatnot was just part of the show - a reason for Connla to go on a grand adventure with new friends while facing enemies. It was a storyline that he fabricated himself, meaning he was the true playwright of this piece of fiction that he wrote only for his daughter’s sake. However, it was the Holy Grail that summoned Servants appropriate for the roles he imagined, so the narrative wasn’t entirely to his liking. If he had to fill in some loose plot holes like taking out Earp’s faction, he would do so - not only was he the author of Connla’s tale, he could also function as the editor.

_Now that this little posse of vigilantes is out of the way, I can finally focus on making the rest of my wish come true,_ he thought. _It won’t be long before I can finally start pushing her limits on my own terms._

A transmitter attached to his waist beeped, and he responded, “It’s me. What do you want?”

_“Are we having fun in the middle of the boonies?”_ Caster’s scoffing voice came through.

“You sound like you’re mocking me.”

_“Of course not. It’s just that such a barren badlands would be a complete nightmare for a woman of stature such as myself. I’m glad you’re the one taking care of things there.”_

“Whatever. Where’s the head honcho?”

_“He’s sick, so I’ve been left in charge of operations.”_

“How convenient for you. You get to boss everyone around on the pretext that they’re Xerxes’ orders.”

_“Are you insinuating something, Cuchulainn?”_

“Maybe. Not that I really care.”

He heard Caster moan in frustration before she said, _“Well, I’ll let it slide since you were gracious enough to crush the rebel army.”_

“No, it hasn’t been completely crushed.”

_“What do you mean?”_

He let out an exasperated sigh, then said, “I couldn’t find Sanson.”

_“One of Earp’s Assassins… Perhaps he found out about the Servants in Las Vegas and told Sanson to meet with them.”_

“I agree. There’s nothing else that gloomy headsman would venture out to look for. Do you know where that particular trio of Servants is right now?”

* * *

Back in Amargosa Valley, Spartacus was already on his way to intercept Arash and his forces. Once he saw the gun-wielding aliens spring from their hiding places like weeds instantly popped out of the ground, he spared no thoughts about seeking their destruction. As if mocking the Wild West trope, the aliens also sported miniature cowboy hats with sheriff stars, but preserving the peace was not on their agenda. They glared at the burly gladiator as he came charging through the plumes of dirt toward them.

**_“Here I come! My love for the people knows no bounds! You foul creatures who oppress, know the full force of my unwavering love!”_** he screamed, his characteristic toothy smile still plastered all over his face. He charged into the fray like an angry bull, ignoring the many bullets being fired directly into his sculpted flesh. Blood spurted all over his, but the sharp pierces of pain incited him even more. He bashed into the crowd, sending dozens of aliens flying all over the place as he broke their formation. The survivors deftly leapt back and continued firing upon him relentlessly.

Arash had a better view of the battle site and saw that Leonidas and Connla were coming to help Spartacus. He fired multiple arrows at them, but the Spartan kept his head and upper body behind his golden shield while running, protecting both himself and the girl following him.

“Curses. His vantage point will be difficult for us to reach,” Leonidas grumbled.

Connla suddenly dashed out and hurried toward the billboard that the archer was perched upon. Arash focused on her and let fly more arrows. She had to vault and cartwheel aside the projectiles, sometimes even batting a few away. Leonidas realized what she was doing; being a distraction so he could go help Spartacus. As much as he wanted to get Connla out of danger himself, he had a plan that involved Spartacus’ strength. He rushed over to the enemy horde, then stood tall and concentrated on bringing his true power forth. Dozens of glowing red shields flanked each other behind him to create an impenetrable wall of metal. The shields gave him their strength, surrounding him in a brilliant gold aura.

**_“Thermopylae Enomotia!”_** he shouted, feeling his body grow stronger as he unleashed his Noble Phantasm. Not only did it give him incredible defense and the ability to survive at least one fatal blow, it also served to draw the monsters’ attention toward him. He shouted, “Spartacus! Go help the Little One!”

“Even if you say that, the enemy is too high up for any of us to take down! Such cowardice! But that is the way of the Archer class, isn’t it!?”

“Don’t be a fool! Take down that man’s roost so he is on the same level as us!”

“Ooooh, I see, I see! Then leave the little miss to me!”

Spartacus left the aliens for Leonidas to deal with while he sprinted at full speed toward one of the billboard’s posts. He let out a hearty battle cry and swung his blunt iron weapon at the pole. Any sounds in the immediate area were drowned out by the deafening gong of metal hitting metal.

“Gah!?” Arash yelped. The signboard he stood on vibrated uncontrollably and made him lose his balance. He had no choice but to jump back onto the Area 51 Alien Center’s roof.

“ _NUGOOOOH!_ Such persistence!” Spartacus growled. “Come down this instant and taste the full might of my strength!”

Of course the archer wasn’t going to do that. Connla knew it, so she said, “If we can’t get him down here, then we’ll have to go to him.”

“Kuh! If only he didn’t have those two spots that he can switch between!”

“Say… Do you think you could throw me up there?”

“Hmm!? You volunteer to be the cannon that shoots him down!? Heh hah hah hah! Such boldness! I like your way of thinking, missy! Then prepare yourself!”

Spartacus eagerly took Connla upon his palm, and she got into a squatting position. With a mighty heave, he hurled her straight for the roof. Their plan astonished Arash, and he shot more arrows at the incoming spearman. Although her cheek and parts of her arms and legs were lacerated, they weren’t enough to stop her trajectory, and she landed near him. From his perspective, her fierce glare was disconcerting when it came from someone so young.

“Tah!” she yelled and rushed at him. He panicked, knowing he was no good with close-range combat. She smacked him a few times with her spear, then finally knocked him off the building. He crashed upon the pavement with a terrible thud and grunted in pain. He opened his eyes to discover Spartacus standing directly above him, blocking the midday sunlight with his bulky frame.

“Heh heh heh…” he chuckled derisively, then raised his foot to try and crush Arash beneath it. He deftly rolled aside and sped away with the Thracian in tow. He jumped and fired more shots that Spartacus made no attempt to dodge. The force behind these arrows was so potent that they actually dug through the tougher layers of his skin.

“More! More! Give me more pain!” he howled with dissonant joy.

“Damn it! This is it for me, isn’t it!?” Arash exclaimed. “Then if I am to die, an inhuman like you will come with me!”

He got into a tall firing stance and started summoning all of his strength into his arm. A formidable red aura enveloped him and pushed Spartacus back, astonishing the gladiator. Arash’s body was racked with pain, but he knew it wouldn’t last long. Connla realized he was going to destroy the other Servants with a deadly suicide move. She wasn’t in range, but her partners were.

**_“Leonidas! Spartacus!”_ ** she screamed.

Arash grit his teeth while charging his arrow with gathering embers of fire. The two men were unable to intercept him themselves, trapped in awe of the awesome power this ordinary-looking man possessed. Connla’s jaw dropped, believing she was going to witness the deaths of her comrades.

“… I don’t think so.”

Another man’s voice, sounding more youthful than the rest, broke through the cacophony. Arash was stunned to hear it and looked to see where it came from. As if out of nowhere, the black-coated man with the crescent sword sped onto the scene and assaulted the bowman with furious fervor, swinging his unusual blade about so as to inflict damage in the right spots. Arash couldn’t charge his attack anymore and was sent flying across the dirt, bloodied and defeated. Leonidas had already killed the remaining gunner aliens on his own, so there were no more threats remaining.

Once quiet was restored to the area, the stranger glanced at the other three Servants, then sighed in relief and said, “Looks like I made it on time.”

Since the battle was over and the unknown fellow had helped them, Spartacus and Leonidas lowered their weapons and approached him, albeit a bit cautiously. Connla jumped down from the roof to rejoin them. The Spartan bellowed, “I do not know who you are, but I extend my thanks for your timely assistance, good sir.”

“No. I was just doing my job,” the white-haired man said.

“Your job?”

“My mission is to find new Servants and gain their trust as allies, then bring them back to my boss.”

“Interesting. It seems you have quite the tale to tell, lad. Who might you be exactly?”

“I am Charles-Henri Sanson, fourth head of the Sanson house of executioners in France. Well, I say that, but it seems such a role is not necessary for this crisis we are facing. I was told that three Heroic Spirits appeared in Las Vegas and did away with the enemy commander who was responsible for ending so many lives there.”

“Oh! Then you need not look further! Spartacus, the Little One and I are the ones you seek!”

“I see. Leonidas the Spartan, Spartacus the rebel gladiator, and…”

Sanson stared at Connla for an awkward moment, then leaned over her to get a better look. He murmured dubiously, “A child?”

“Umm,” she uttered, nervous about meeting a self-professed headsman. “H-Hello…”

He didn’t seem convinced by her presence, but said, “I’ll have to ask some questions later. For now, we should consider apprehending that archer before he can escape.”

“Already on that!” Spartacus exclaimed as he approached the stupefied Arash and cracked his knuckles.

“Wait!” the Persian bowman exclaimed. He suddenly raised his arms in surrender, surprising the other Servants. “I know when I am beat.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Sanson asked.

“What else could it mean? I’ve lost, so now I’m your prisoner of war. Not that I mind, however.”

Connla wondered, “Why would you not mind?”

Leonidas understood what was going on and told her, “He purposely set himself up to be captured by us. The lack of organization between his monsters plus the many missed opportunities he had to shoot us down tells me such.”

Arash smiled. “As to be expected from one of history’s master military strategists. You’re exactly right.”

“Hey, come on!” Spartacus exclaimed. “If you wanted to join our rebellion, why didn’t you just say so from the start!? Such long-winded tactics to accomplish something so simple infuriate me to no end!”

“You fool,” the Spartan snapped. “He couldn’t do such a thing when his superiors are monitoring his every move. If he set himself up to lose so he could be captured and forced to fight for us, then he could avoid having his real intentions be known to the ones he has betrayed.”

“Geez, such meandering grates my nerves! But if the bowman truly wishes to ally himself with us, then I suppose I shouldn’t complain too much. More numbers for our plight against oppression is always welcome for me!”

“I’m glad you understand, Thracian hero of the under trodden masses,” Arash said. “My bow only exists to serve the people. I cannot condone what my former superiors have done to those innocent citizens in the name of dominance.”

“Ohh, of course! Men of true might should be humble enough to fight for the unfortunate!”

The archer was about to extend his palm to shake Spartacus’ hand to seal the deal between them, but then his face immediately contorted and his arm twitched against his volition…

* * *

Caster observed the battle in Amargosa Valley in silence. Although she was disappointed in Arash’s defeat, she wasn’t exactly surprised either. What piqued her interest more was how the three Servants weren’t as stupid as she thought. Her low opinion of Spartacus’ single-minded nature didn’t change, but seeing Leonidas and Connla utilizing such outrageous ideas to win got her concerned.

“The Spartan is one thing, but the child is smarter than she lets on,” she murmured to herself. “Just what kind of Heroic Spirit is she…?”

Analyzing any and all data she had on Connla still got her empty-handed. Caster was as mystified now as when she first discovered the young Servant, and it greatly troubled her. However, she had a more immediate issue to worry about – Sanson had just arrived on the scene and pummeled Arash into submission. She had lost a good Archer, but she still had a plan to make him useful one last time. Caster went to Xerxes’ chambers where he was resting, bringing him a glass of poisoned alcohol.

Along the way, a middle-aged gentleman in classy attire met with her. His steps were as purposeful and calculating as the man himself. While his choice of clothing immediately gave others the impression that he was a dandy fine fellow, the black mantle over his shoulder and the excessively popped blue collar with a butterfly motif around his neck made him a hundred times more flamboyant than necessary. He was progressive, yet mysterious; verbose, yet vague; affable, yet sinister – a man of many dualities that made him nearly impossible to figure out.

“Good day, madam,” he greeted her. “How has your newfound leadership been treating you?”

“Leadership? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Caster played dumb.

“Ah, but of course. Your swagger was so flagrant that I momentarily forgot you are second-in-command.”

“Humph. Is that what everyone thinks of me?”

“Come now. We know your history, Miss Agrippina. It is not good to strain yourself from hiding such an obvious truth. Well, I shall play my part as well, seeing as how Xerxes’ gross incompetence fills me with naught but melancholy. If he is to be your puppet, then so it shall be. So long as this stale, deceitful excuse of a country that claims to thrive on democracy returns to the rightful owners of us Europeans, I shall not complain if it is ultimately under your rule."

Caster – Agrippina the Younger – scoffed and muttered, “I am more afraid of a brilliant mind such as yours being twisted beyond redemption, Archer… Or should I say, _Mister_ Moriarty?”

“Hoh hoh,” James Moriarty, the eternal rival of Sherlock Holmes, chuckled while lighting a cigar. “No need for the formalities. You may address me as Mr. Dandy, if you wish.”

“I think I won’t.”

He dismissed her retort with a cool smile, then asked, “So then, what business brings you to our ailing lord?”

She briefly told him what was going on, then said, “I must hurry. Having Arash turn against us will be detrimental for our plans.”

“So it would seem. That boy may not know everything, but he is aware of enough to give those Servants the information they need to launch a solid counter-offensive. I am aware of Cuchulainn eliminating Earp’s faction, but it is a hollow victory so long as a new menagerie of heroes rises to face us.”

“That is why I need Xerxes’ help. Once he finds out about a fellow Persian’s betrayal, he will use his Command Spell to ensure the archer’s cooperation.”

“Then I will not keep you further,” Moriarty said and abruptly extinguished his cigar in the glass of alcohol, rendering it inedible with bits of tobacco and ashes. “Do your best in silencing Arash.”

He left her be, clicking his shoes against the floor. Agrippina glared at the ruined beverage and let out a muted grunt. Despite this setback, she went to Xerxes’ room to tell him what was going on. As she anticipated, the ailing king activated the one Command Spell he possessed for Arash, ordering him to fight to the death.

* * *

“What’s wrong?” Connla asked Arash as she approached him.

“Gah…! G-Get back!” the bowman growled, grabbing his out-of-control arm with his other hand. He couldn’t resist any longer and grabbed a knife from his belt, then raised it over her while yelling uncontrollably.

“Not good!” Sanson yelped and grabbed her arm, forcing her back so she would narrowly avoid being skewered. Spartacus and Leonidas stood in front of them as Arash readied his bow in a firing stance again.

“What is the meaning of this!?” Spartacus demanded. “You just said you would be our ally! Is this another example of the Archer class’ foul knack for trickery!?”

“No! That’s not it!” the archer protested. “Get away from me! I’ve been ordered to die fighting you all!”

“Lies! The favorite tool of all oppressors is the simple yet venomous lie!”

“Calm down,” Sanson stopped the gladiator. “He isn’t doing this by his own will. Xerxes must have activated the Command Spell he had as leverage over Arash.”

“A Servant possessing Command Spells!? Preposterous!” Leonidas barked.

“I’m not sure what is going on either, but my superior gained intelligence from a defector who said that Xerxes gained a spell for each of his subordinates. However, it is limited to only one use per Servant, meaning he has expended his only source of control over Arash’s free will.”

“So if we manage to subdue him here…”

“We should be able to get his full cooperation without further hindrance.”

Connla readied her spear and exclaimed, “Then let’s save him!”


	10. West Persian Empire

**FATE/LAOCH GAN FINSCEAL**

**“Hero Without Legend”**

**Chapter 10: West Persian Empire**

Arash initiated the fight that he didn’t want to start by raising his bow up high and firing what looked to be one large arrow into the sky. It shone against the blue void, but returned as dozens of smaller needles that rained upon them. It was nowhere near as grand as Atalanta’s Phoebus Catastrophe, but it was enough to make the four heroes panic. Leonidas raised his shield to cover himself and Sanson, while Spartacus gladly used his body as a barrier so he could defend Connla. Arash kept firing more needles upon them in a relentless barrage, and it was only a matter of time before the group’s defenses wore out.

“Ooooh! More! More! More!” Spartacus shouted happily as hundreds of small thorns turned him into a human pincushion.

“No! You can’t last like this!” Connla urged.

Leonidas growled, “Krrrgh! We must retaliate somehow!”

“How!?” Sanson exclaimed. “We’ll be pierced to death if we drop our guard!”

Connla stared up at the falling pins in shock, but it made her think about something…

“That’s it!” she shouted and took out her slingshot. She placed a bunch of loose rocks into it and energized them with tiny Ansuz runes. They wouldn’t be deadly on their own, but once she fired them upon the falling arrows, they exploded in small bursts and scattered Arash’s shots everywhere.

“NOW!” Leonidas screamed. He and Sanson rushed at the surprised archer, and they attacked him side-by-side with a furious display of spear thrusts and sword slashes. Once he had sustained enough damage from them, they stepped aside and let Spartacus deliver the final blow.

 ** _“NGUOOOHH!”_** the gladiator yelled as loudly as he could.

Arash choked up moments before the gladiator pummeled his elbow right against the pit of his stomach, folding him like a jackknife before throwing him across the dirt in a violent tumble. He laid motionless for a short while, and the other four were unsure if they managed to break Xerxes’ hold over the bowman.

* * *

Xerxes and Agrippina observed the battle in silence. Both of them appeared enraged and disappointed in Arash’s complete failure, along with frustration that the four heroes did not kill him to ensure he wouldn’t spill their secrets. Xerxes appeared especially agitated as he thrashed about in his bed, coughing up blood from Agrippina’s poison.

“That bastard…! He… _He betrayed me_ …!” the king lashed out. She tried to keep him down, but he shoved her away.

“Why are you so upset over one man?” she asked calmly, brushing off her dress of dust.

“The eclipse…”

“Huh?”

“It is the eclipse that forebodes doom! One by one, as people betray me or die, my dream of a new Persian empire crumbles bit by bit… Will my kingdom never hope to rise again? Is it divine providence that I will forever be denied my rightful sovereignty!? Ahh, Artabanus, you scum! You were the one who began my glorious kingdom’s decline into obscurity! You are the eclipse that forebode my doom!”

Xerxes continued babbling nonsensically. Agrippina did nothing to sate the man’s rabid bantering. In fact, she actually expected it. It was the first sign that her poisons were wearing away not only his body, but also his sanity. It was a special toxin that eroded the victim’s mind and made them easier to control. It was akin to the Madness Enhancement that defined the Berserker class, although Xerxes had not lost his status as a Rider. Since Agrippina had no intention of giving Xerxes any sort of antidote, his conquest was essentially over before it even began.

“Perhaps you should get some rest,” she cooed and laid him back down. “I will take care of everything.”

She let him get some sleep, then left in a good mood.

_This is getting quite exciting. With him finally becoming a puppet in the truest sense, I can start building the foundation for my own version of Rome that will surpass Nero’s. What should I call it? West Rome? Modern Rome? Roma America? … Yes, I like that. It has a subtle yet antiquated charm to it._

* * *

“Ungh,” Arash groaned in total agony. He felt like he was going to throw up his innards if he moved around too much. After taking in some deep breaths, he examined his hands to see if he still had control over them. He flexed his fingers by his own accord, which brought him tremendous relief. Sanson proceeded to heal him, while Connla kneeled next to him and worriedly asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yes… I think so…” the archer moaned.

“We almost took it a bit too far there,” Leonidas said. “I apologize for any unnecessary wounds you may have sustained.”

“No, it’s all right. You did what you could to stop me. I could use some rest however.”

“Then let us take this time to reconnoiter. Could you both tell us what has been happening in this area? We three have only just left that town of opulence and do not truly know where we are to head next. We do not even know who our enemy is or what their objectives are – we have only been following weak leads, at best.”

Sanson murmured, “I was on my way to intercept the Servants who were summoned in Las Vegas. If you are the ones my boss spoke about, then there is no need for me to go further.”

“Your boss?”

“Yes, he is Wyatt Earp, an Archer-class Servant who gathered all of the stray Servants summoned in this land and protected Carson City from the West Persian Empire’s forces.

 _“West Persian Empire!?”_ the Spartan was astonished to hear the name of the kingdom he once opposed. “Who in their right mind would attempt to conquer this land in the name of the Persians!?”

“He is someone you know quite well,” the executioner said with a cool, even tone. “None other than the fourth king of the Archaemenid dynasty of ancient Persia.”

Leonidas’ eyes shot wide open and he visibly grit his teeth beneath his helmet. “It can’t be…!”

Arash nodded grimly. “Our enemy is Xerxes I, who seeks to turn this country into a Persia of the western continents. He’s been summoned as a Rider, and has taken control of this state’s foremost research facility – Area 51, a location that the government has kept tight security over for decades.”

“That domineering cur! Does his lust for power not even know the bounds of death!?”

“It would seem not,” Sanson said. “We rebels under Earp’s command are resisting his forces in the northwestern front, but there was no way we could reach Las Vegas in time to prevent the massacring of those citizens. We had thought that other Servants would be summoned to protect them, but…”

“I’m sorry,” Connla apologized. “When I showed up, everyone was already dead.”

“No, it’s not your fault. There is nothing we can do for that city anymore. All we can do is coordinate a two-front assault on Area 51 and retake the base from the enemy. That’s why Earp sent me here; my Presence Concealment allowed me to sneak past the enemies and travel in the hopes of rendezvousing with you three. Gaining Arash’s assistance was not part of the plan, but if he insists on leaving Xerxes, then we could use whatever knowledge he has about the enemy forces.”

“Believe me, I will have nothing further to do with that man,” Arash glowered. “I will gladly tell you as much as I can, although I was little more than a Servant under his general’s command and thus wasn’t privy to hearing everything.”

“You should at least know who the commanders are.”

“Somewhat. Of course, we already know about Xerxes being the ruler of their forces, but he has three subordinates who answer to him – an Archer, a Caster, and a Berserker. I honestly do not know much about the Archer, other than he is dubbed the Napoleon of the Criminal World, and that he serves as Xerxes’ strategist.”

“He already sounds like a sinister fellow,” Leonidas murmured. “No doubt a single-minded fool like Xerxes would call upon the intellect of the underworld to compensate for his blatant lack of foresight.”

“Yes. The idea of taking over Area 51 was Archer’s, after all. He must have had connections with people in this country to allow for a swift takeover, defeating even the army by utilizing the captured aliens they had been genetically replicating. I would imagine that some degree of betrayal was involved as well.”

“I may not know his identity, but one who proclaims to be the bane of society must meet his end in a proper fashion,” Sanson suddenly declared, gripping his curved blade tightly. His crystal blue eyes seemed to get chillier as he thought about doing his duty as an executioner. “For this, I will personally see to it that he is subjected to the full punishment of the guillotine.”

“I see. How about the Caster?” Leonidas asked.

Arash shook his head and answered, “I wasn’t able to ascertain her identity either.”

Sanson interjected, “Earp managed to find out who Caster is through our mole. She is none other than Agrippina the Younger, mother of Emperor Nero and younger sister of Caligula.”

“Ohhh, a Roman oppressor!” Spartacus exclaimed with glee. “Nothing brings me pleasure as to see those autocratic elitists fall off the thrones they sit upon through the sacrifices of the many!”

“I figured you would be ecstatic to hear her identity. She was born about 100 years after you died in your uprising, but the Romans’ penchant for backstabbing and treachery was as strong as ever. She was even responsible for poisoning Nero so she could seize control of the throne behind the scenes, but Nero turned around and had Agrippina executed.”

“One tyrant versus another, hm? Well, they’re all the same to me. You can bet that once I meet this failed oppressor, I will subject her to the full might of my rebellion!”

“Then we’ll leave her to you.”

Leonidas then asked Arash, “So, how about the Berserker? Don’t tell me you have no idea who _that_ Servant is.”

The archer grinned. “No, I know his identity. But of all of them, I think he is the most dangerous for his unpredictability.”

“That should go without saying, given what class he’s been summoned under.”

“No, that’s not it. He may be under the effects of Madness Enhancement, but his mind is as clear as ours. He has not given in to true insanity, but I feel as though his objectives are not the same as Xerxes’.”

“So who is he and what does he want?”

“I don’t know what he’s after, but he is definitely Ireland’s Child of Light, Cuchulainn.”

Behind the men, Connla’s face went deathly pale when she heard that name. Her throat went dry and she had to swallow a few times to keep herself from coughing. Her sudden change in attitude went unnoticed as Leonidas wondered, “Cuchulainn? What in the world is a man of Celtic mythology doing getting mixed into this?”

“I have no idea,” Arash shook his head. “Maybe he was drawn to the prospect of battle, since he is well-known for loving a good fight. Or perhaps there is a rival among us opposing Servants that he seeks to face.”

 _By the gods,_ Connla fretted, clasping her hands over her chest. _If Father finds out I’m here…_

“There weren’t any Celtic Servants with Earp though,” Sanson murmured. “Well regardless of his reasons, it’s clear that he’s the one coordinating the direct attacks. Earp contacted me shortly before I got involved in that battle, and he said that some alien forces were on their way to intercept his group. Based on the numbers and strategies they are utilizing, he believes that Cuchulainn is among their ranks, and is expecting casualties at the end of this battle.”

Connla quietly sighed in relief and thought, _So he’s nowhere near us at the moment. It’d be nice if this other group that Sanson is talking about would defeat him, but…_

Deep in her heart, she knew she shouldn’t get her hopes up. Cuchulainn wasn’t given the colloquial nickname ‘Irish Heracles’ for nothing. Since he was a Berserker, she feared his strength and survivability would be even greater than as a Lancer.

_So, he really is here, and he’s with the enemy…_

Her anxiety immediately changed into confusion.

_But as a Berserker? Why not as a Lancer? That would be the most suitable class for him. Is there something wrong with his mind?_

As Connla was lost in her thoughts, Leonidas wondered, “Do you think he will be able to cope with such aggression on his own?”

“I’m not sure,” Sanson frowned. “I’ve been trying to reach Earp for the last while, but he hasn’t been responding.”

“Sounds like we should be doing less talking and more running to aid in this fight!” Spartacus exclaimed.

“No, we shouldn’t. Earp told me that I should focus on bringing together any Servants I could and having us work together to attack Area 51 from the southeast while they concentrated on the northwest front. Us five may not be much, but that means we can maneuver around the enemies a lot faster than Earp’s big group. At least, that’s what he said.”

“His calculations are most impressive,” Leonidas said. “Such a splendid mission we have been given! While the general is away, let us hurry to the enemy base and lay waste to Xerxes and his cronies!”

Arash warned them, “Expect heavy resistance. Xerxes knows where we are, so he can send reinforcements to try and drive us back.”

Sanson asked, “His supply of bred aliens shouldn’t be limitless, right? He has to be running low on forces to dispose upon us.”

“I honestly don’t know, but from what I overheard Archer saying, the American government’s research into the captured aliens had been going on for at least 40 or so years.”

“Hmm…”

“Hey, come on already!” Spartacus was getting impatient with everyone standing around and talking. “We have a destination and an enemy to defeat there! Such trifles should be meaningless when all we need to do is destroy the oppressors!”

Without waiting for the others, he gleefully barged ahead. Leonidas let out a gruff grunt of consternation, but followed nonetheless. Arash was next in the line, followed by Sanson and Connla in the rear. As they hurried northward, the executioner couldn’t help but notice the young girl’s apprehensive expression. Now that he thought about it, he still didn’t know who she was.

“Say,” he murmured to her, “I know this is a little late, but-“

“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you who I am,” was the blunt response.

He was surprised that she figured out what he was going to say. He wondered, “Why not?”

She quickly told him about the three curses she bore and the conditions she had to uphold. This made him even more curious as he asked, “The geas are from Celtic folklore, right? That must mean you’re from the same mythology as Cuchulainn.”

“…”

“Do you know him, by any chance?”

“N-No…” She was too scared to tell him the truth.

“Then why do you appear so upset?”

“Because… Well, it’s Cuchulainn we’re talking about, right? The greatest Celtic hero ever? He’s probably one of the most recognized figures in the world. If I tried to fight him, I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Sanson understood her point, but at the same time, he had a gut feeling that she wasn’t telling him everything. He wasn’t sure if it was the geas’ fault or she was just withholding information out of fear. Either way, he was suspicious of Connla’s behavior, not so much because she was being dishonest, but of how frightened she looked. He didn’t bombard her with any more questions for now, but felt he should keep an eye on her.

* * *

The chaos in Luning died down into silence. Numerous corpses littered the abandoned hamlet, practically turning it into a desert cemetery. The only one still standing was Cuchulainn, who pulled out a knife jabbed into his arm that he had just noticed now. He noticed some movement nearby from one of the enemy Servants, so he walked over and coldly stabbed Gae Bolg through their chest. After killing hundreds of people and monsters for so long, the grim deed just became a tiresome drudgery for him. With Earp’s gathering of Servants completely decimated, there was no need for him to stay here anymore.

Just as Cuchulainn was about to go back to Area 51, his transmitter beeped, and he responded, “It’s me.”

 _“Sorry to have to say this after your splendid victory, but I’ve got some bad news,”_ Agrippina said. She explained all about the Amargosa Valley battle to him, along with Sanson showing up unexpectedly and losing Arash’s allegiance. She added, _“They may not have the numbers that Earp did, but their power is certainly on our level.”_

“What’s this? You’re complimenting the enemy’s strength? Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

_“Shut up. As I was saying, that brings their total numbers to five – Leonidas, Spartacus, Sanson, Arash, and the girl.”_

“Oh? You still haven’t figured out who the child Lancer is?” he smirked, pleased at Agrippina’s failure to figure out what he already knew.

_“I still cannot discern who she is, even after analyzing all of the footage I have of her battles. It’s getting to be quite frustrating.”_

“Has she not used her Noble Phantasm yet?”

_“I don’t know if a nameless waif like her even has one to begin with.”_

“Then what are you complaining about? A Heroic Spirit with no Noble Phantasm should be easy for us to dispose of, right?”

_“She’s still a nuisance, no matter what. Since you’re already out on the field, go and intercept that second group before they can attack this place. I’ll send you some aliens from here as backup.”_

This was an order that Cuchulainn had no problem obeying. He grinned, “Roger,” and disconnected his transmitter. He stood tall over the former battleground, littered with bodies and discarded weapons, as he faced toward where Agrippina told him the other Servants were.

_Connla doesn’t have a Noble Phantasm, hm? No doubt, her Identity Concealment is barring her from having a Noble Phantasm when it fundamentally exposes a Servant’s origins. That could be a problem._

He let out a disconcerting sigh.

_She can’t be the ‘hero’ of this story if she cannot function as a proper Heroic Spirit. I guess it’s time for me to do my part as the ‘villain’ and draw it out of her._

He hunched down on all fours like a beast, then sprinted in a mad dash eastward. His craving for fighting Connla after so many years apart gave him an unnatural boost of energy.

_Let’s see how much you have grown throughout this adventure… So that I can push those limits further._


	11. Beast of Yucca Flat

**FATE/LAOCH GAN FINSCEAL**

**“Hero Without Legend”**

**Chapter 11: Beast of Yucca Flat**

If a person had been given the topic of discussing one of America’s most barren, desolate areas and how it got to be that way in such a country of prosperity, one of the easiest choices they could make was to talk about Yucca Flat. Situated just southwest of Area 51 itself, it was a test site for 739 nuclear tests conducted between 1951 to 1992, and was considered to be the most bombed place on Earth. Countless pockmarks scarred the land, making the area resemble a person’s skin after they recovered from some severe dermatological issue. Along the way, the five heroes passed by an abandoned white building with a large sign that blared, “You are now entering the Nevada Test Site. **_NO TRESPASSING._** By order of the United States Department of Energy.”

“Incredible…” Connla murmured. “It’d be like if I charged hundreds of large boulders with Ansuz runes and left them to explode.”

“Technology certainly is a frightful thing,” Sanson replied. “Humans have come a long way from the days of swords and armor, yet it feels like they have fallen into a new pit with their success.”

Leonidas said with a low growl, “Such fearsome displays of power, these Americans are capable of. I dread to think of what weaponry lies beneath the bowels of our foes’ headquarters.”

They continued along their way, not letting the signs of past bomb tests deter them from what they needed to do. Arash pointed ahead and said, “It’s this way.”

“Hey, where’s the calvary that you warning us about?” Spartacus complained. “I see nothing but dirt and dead foliage for miles on end!”

“I know Caster will send everything she has at us. She’s that type of person.”

They stopped when they heard something in the distance. The gladiator put a hand to his ear to listen closer. His smile then grew wider as he said, “Oh! Looks like the oppressors have finally brought out their welcoming committee!”

Sanson chuckled, “Feh. The red carpet has teeth.”

Several miles between the group and Area 51 was a massive horde of grey aliens and chimeras charging at them. Dirt rose like a foreboding storm cloud as the creatures came closer and closer to their prey. This time it was a mix of various classes such as the gunner aliens, the claw-swiping monsters, and the burly monstrosities that would give even a Berserker trouble. The heroes brought out their weapons, ready for a fight.

“Let’s go! Are you ready, young lady?” Arash asked Connla as he raised his bow.

“Yes!” she exclaimed and prepared her slingshot full of energized rocks.

They fired away, peppering the enemy onslaught with arrows and exploding stones. Some monsters fell dead, which helped thin out their numbers a bit. Spartacus, Leonidas and Sanson dashed in to cover the two shooters. Naturally, Leonidas activated Thermopylae Enomotia to act as the diversion while Spartacus used his Unyielding Will ability, allowing both of them to survive even if they were struck down with lethal attacks. Sanson wasn’t fortunate enough to have such skills, so he had to take the rear and strike down any monsters that tried to break through to Connla and Arash. He could take any chances he had to heal the two men so they never had to last through any fatal blows in the first place.

“Good! Good! These abominations have nothing against my rebellion!” Spartacus shouted in glee, batting down a group of slashers with his gladius.

“Doesn’t look like there are any enemy Servants either,” Leonidas remarked while stabbing his spear through a brute’s stomach. “Nothing but a bunch of throwaway minions! Such insolence!”

Unfortunately, none of them noticed a powerful presence charging in their direction. The dark-hooded warrior with the spiked tail and grotesque spear saw the battle from afar and rushed straight for it. He recognized the explosions as belonging to Connla and the magic stones she confounded him with before. As he came closer, he finally found her. All thoughts escaped him as delight overcame his senses. He was happy to see her, both as a father and a bloodthirsty fighter. Nothing was going to hold him back from reuniting with her in a savage death match.

Connla was so focused on shooting down the alien mob that she didn’t see the figure rocketing straight for her. It was only when a momentary movement of darkness contrasting the bright, arid landscape caught her peripheral vision, and she turned to look at it.

“Ah-?”

In an instant, she was swept off her feet. Her throat was grabbed by some large claw-like hand, and she felt the wind rushing against her back while her legs flailed forth uselessly. Her startled scream alerted the others, and they saw who was taking her away into the far distance.

_“No!”_ Arash shouted in absolute horror and chased after them as fast as he could.

“Who is that foul beast!?” Leonidas shouted.

“It’s the enemy general, Cuchulainn!”

“What!?”

“Take care of things here! I’ll go rescue her!”

Connla struggled to open one of her eyes, and she briefly made eye contact with the red-eyed, black-armored man who stared at her with a ruthless grin of sharp teeth.

_No way!_

The monstrous assailant slammed her back against a huge slab of stone and stepped away to watch her crumple to her knees in agony. He just stood there and patiently watched her cough for a minute. When she regained enough strength, she looked up with a pained expression and gasped, “It can’t be… You’re not… Father… are you!?”

“I knew you would recognize me,” Cuchulainn replied coolly. “It’s been a while, Connla. I was getting impatient with waiting for the World to summon you as my opponent.”

“Father… why are you…? Gah! Ah khah-!” she hacked a few more times.

“Pathetic. Get up and face me already, or I will strike you down this instant,” he threatened, pointing the horrendously spiked Gae Bolg at her. To make good on his word, he raised the polearm and thrust it upon her. She had no choice but to clumsily roll aside to avoid being pierced. She gasped heavily and brandished her leaf-bladed spear, but she wasn’t exactly eager to fight him immediately after seeing him for the first time in centuries.

“W-Why are you here!?” Connla demanded with a shaky voice.

“Why else? To fight you,” was Cuchulainn’s simple response.

“That’s not it! Why are you in this Singularity!? Why are you siding with Xerxes!?”

“That shouldn’t mean anything to you right now. I’m simply here to destroy my opponents. Don’t get complacent just because you’re my daughter, for I will not show mercy even to you.”

She inhaled deeply and got ready to fight. Fear gripped her heart, exacerbated by the unearthly appearance her father took on.

“What’s the matter? If you won’t move first, then I will,” he said with a fanged grin, mocking her own warning when she fought him back when she was alive.

_Calm down. I have to stay calm. Mother told me never to show emotion,_ Connla told herself. _I can do this. If I have to make him talk through force, then I’ll give him everything I have!_

Contrary to what Cuchulainn expected, and which caught him by surprise, she _did_ move first. She dashed aside, sending dirt flying in her wake as she opted to take on a strategy that involved constant movement. Since he was much stronger than her, she needed to stay ahead of him at all times so he would never get a chance to hit her. While running around randomly, she raised her arm and used a series of runes to bless herself with Protection From Arrows, which raised her dodging abilities and gave her inhumanly fast reflexes to complement her already high agility. When she was ready, Connla’s spear met Cuchulainn’s and they flailed their weapons about in an ungodly uproar of blades.

_“Not enough!”_ he screamed and slammed Gae Bolg clean into the ground. She twirled aside on her feet like an ice skater to dodge him and slashed at his midsection, cutting through his upper abdomen. He gasped, startled that she managed to find an opening in his impeccable defenses. He ignored the pain however and kept countering her flurry of  blows. He finally grabbed her shawl and hurled her across the desert with all his might, sending her tumbling about 100 meters. Despite the tremendous force she had to soften, she elegantly flipped back to her feet and scurried towards a massive crater left behind by a nuclear bomb test from decades ago.

Connla looked over her shoulder while running to see what Cuchulainn was doing. Her heart leapt when she saw him pursuing her like a beast after its prey. She hopped into the crater and ran at full speed through the concave ground to gain momentum. Behind her, he leapt into the hole and smashed his spear at the ground right where she was. Luckily she was too quick to get caught, so the powerful blow only sent rocks scattering everywhere. When she reached the other end, she jumped straight up and flipped upside-down so that the ground became the sky for her.

She thrust her hands forth in a conjuring pattern and shouted, **_“Ansuz!”_**

Cuchulainn looked down to see dozens of F-shaped patterns glowing on the bedrock. He scowled moments before they exploded simultaneously, sending a burning shockwave into the sky that blew Connla’s hair and clothes about. While falling, she dared not look away for fear of him surviving the explosion. Just as she expected, the vicious Berserker broke through the fire and jumped high with a animalistic roar. She blocked him multiple times, then vaulted upon his arm as he tried to grab her again and launched herself off his back like a swift rabbit.

They landed about 50 feet away from each other, but there was no time for rest. They got into another bout of frenzied fighting, their minds shutting down to nothing but raw instinct and training. Clashing metal echoed in the uninhabited wasteland as they struggled to one-up the other. Finally, Connla swept her spear beneath the surprised Cuchulainn’s feet and tossed him upside-down, then jabbed the non-bladed end against his stomach. The blow sent him careening towards another crater that he crashed within. She didn’t stand there and celebrate however; she jumped over him with the intent of swinging down upon his head as hard as she could.

He stood back up and got into position. Suddenly, a sickening cloud of red and green engulfed his entire body. Connla gasped, unsure of what was going on. She descended upon the bloody aura and swung. The spear seemed to hit something… metallic? No, it was more scaly. The fog dissipated and, to her absolute horror, showed Cuchulainn wearing a set of black armor she had never seen before, with his head completely covered in some monster’s dark skull with a large red horn protruding from the forehead. He had effortlessly blocked Connla’s spear with one of the massive black-and-red claws he wore as gauntlets.

“Father!?” she blurted.

_“Not enough…”_ he let out a guttural growl. “I will slaughter, without exception. I will liberate all curses, without moderation.”

He threw her off him, then rushed at her while she was down and slashed multiple times. He continued exclaiming, “Be prepared to challenge despair! **_Curruid Coinchenn!_** ”

He unleashed the full brunt of his Noble Phantasm by summoning a black orb filled with nothing but hatred and anger, then stabbed it at her. Intense pain flared through her body as the evil energy coursed through her and exploded out the other side as imitation Gae Bolgs. She couldn’t even scream as she fell in an arc upon the desert. She was covered in blood and wounds everywhere, while Cuchulainn only had a few scratches on him. She had enough strength to get back onto her buttocks, but she wasn’t sure if she could keep fighting him in such a battered state.

**_“Not enough!”_** the man raged again. Some monster’s howl accompanied his scream.

Connla’s eyes widened as she wondered, _What is he going on about?_

“This isn’t enough to defeat me! I know you can do better than that! If you’re a Servant, then show me your Noble Phantasm! _Show me proof that you are a true Heroic Spirit worthy of facing me!_ ”

“My… Noble Phantasm…?”

She had no idea what to do. She knew what a Noble Phantasm was, but it only served to prove that she didn’t really have one. She was not a hero that people remembered for anything remarkable other than fighting Cuchulainn, and she wasn’t the only person to challenge him in his lifetime either. She lost that battle, and returned to obscurity where she rightfully belonged as the defeated. She didn’t have a unique weapon, ability, or concept that allowed her to stand independently among other legends. Hell, she still didn’t understand why or how she had been summoned here if she wasn’t in the Throne of Heroes.

She was… no one special.

Her strained expression infuriated Cuchulainn further. He knew what she was thinking, and it broke his heart to see her being so harsh on herself. He wanted to see her Noble Phantasm. He wanted to know what she could represent to the world. So long as she continued to doubt herself, she would never awaken as a proper Servant whom Magi could summon to their side.

“Kh-!” he grit his teeth. He wanted to help her, but he had to play his part as her opponent. He had an epiphany however, and he leaned his entire body forward on the ground until he resembled a beast of prey, still covered in his skeletal Noble Phantasm. He growled, “If you don’t believe you’re a hero, then you will die a dog’s death like those people whose lives Carmilla claimed.”

Connla gasped. Thinking about the Blood Countess’ final words struck her heart:

_“Those nameless victims are the sacrifices for propelling one individual’s legend into infamy.”_

She shook her head, refusing to accept the woman’s idea of the truth.

_That’s not right! Where is the justice in that!?_

**_“Hragh!”_** Cuchulainn roared and dashed at her. She jumped and somersaulted over him, continuously vaulting from side to side to avoid his feral pounces while her mind wandered elsewhere. Her feelings from earlier resurfaced, but this time her thoughts seemed a lot clearer and focused.

_We’re not sacrifices! We might be overlooked and underappreciated, but we’re still part of this world! Even if we are not celebrated, just the very act of living is courageous enough! If I am not a hero for my accomplishments, then I should be one who represents the forgotten, abandoned, and sacrificed ones, for I too endured the same fate as them! I know what it’s like to become a passing obscurity!_

_I am… a Hero Without Legend!_

She felt an incredible power surge in her hands, and she pressed them against his chest. A tornado of intense winds exploded from her palms and shot the stunned man backwards. He skidded on the balls of his feet to stop his momentum, then glared at Connla. She took her spear and raised it above her in a poised position. The wind began to gust in circles around her, giving the dusty dirt life as it swirled in a twister.

“Concealed identities. Blinking vignettes. Unsolved mysteries. Return from the void and be the wind that guides my nameless spear! **_Laoch Gan Finsceal!_** ”

Connla’s body shone and transformed into a bullet that ricocheted in random patterns around Cuchulainn. She didn’t look much different than Gae Bolg when the power to reverse cause and effect was active, allowing it to warp into jagged lines that defied reality in order to make the effect of ‘the heart being pierced’ occur. The streaks she left behind weren’t blood red as with the spear, but a soft shade of green. She didn’t have the legendary weapon on hand, so she utilized her incredible speed to turn herself into a blade that cut, slashed, and thrashed all around the opponent. She had become a proverbial sickle that carved through fresh grass. Her movement was so blindingly fast that it would be impossible for almost anyone to keep up with her. She elegantly landed on her feet and swung her spear in an arc. In that moment, hundreds of small wounds burst open on Cuchulainn’s skin and surrounded him in blustering green winds, throwing him about in a violent flurry.

A small bit of his blood spattered her face and armor, and she gasped for air while kneeling, using her weapon as a prop to keep herself upright. She watched Cuchulainn as he rolled to his side and audibly groaned, losing his demonic armor and reverting back to his normal Berserker self. He eventually got to his knees, then glared at her with a grin that would make sharks jealous.

“Not bad,” he huffed, sounding a bit proud of her. “Just as I would expect. You finally came up with a Noble Phantasm that won’t expose your identity to those inept dominators.”

“Hah… Hah… Gah…”

“This is the first time I’ve shed blood since arriving here,” he smiled and licked his bleeding lips like a hungry dog. “My instinct wasn’t wrong; you’ll prove to be an opponent worthy of my full might.”

“Then this was… just a test…?”

“Yeah. You’re still not ready. If only this little bit of fighting wears you out so much, then you don’t stand a chance. Once you have what it takes, then come and dismantle this foolish ‘empire’ that Xerxes seeks to create. Of course, I’ll be waiting for you.”

His eyes suddenly shifted sideways, and he leapt backwards onto the nearest boulder to avoid an arrow that Arash shot at him. Without any further words, Cuchulainn jumped away with a powerful hop, allowing his body to disintegrate into small light particles. Connla watched him leave, then slumped onto her side and shivered in both exhaustion and terror. She heard the archer’s heavy footsteps behind her as he hurried to her side.

“Hey!” Arash shouted and held her up. “Are you okay!?”

“Yes… I’m okay…” she uttered, relieved that someone was here to help her. “Just… give me… a moment…”

“Take it easy. You must have expended a lot of strength to use that Noble Phantasm.”

“I know. I never… used one… before… so this is… a first for me.”

“Never used one before? What does that mean?”

“I only… discovered it… just now…”

This mystified him further. Even though he had witnessed the new Noble Phantasm, it still gave him no clues as to who the girl was or why Cuchulainn would target her. He was incredibly impressed with her ability to keep up with Ireland’s most famous hero, although he felt that something was off about the whole thing. If Cuchulainn had unleashed Gae Bolg, Connla would have been dead. Yet he didn’t, and that troubled Arash.

_Why didn’t he kill her when he has slain everyone else in his path? Did he go easy on her on account of her being a child? Was she hiding her true potential from everyone, and he forced it out of her? Or is there something else going on?_

“I’m sorry. I can’t help… the others… like this…” the young spearman apologized weakly, practically on the verge of passing out.

“It’s okay. The others had the horde under control when I came to help you. I’m sure they’re finished fighting by now.”

Arash helped Connla walk toward the abandoned building from earlier. He kicked the locked door in and sat her down on the empty floor, where she fell asleep almost immediately. He wanted to go see if their teammates were okay, but he didn’t want to leave her alone like this. He stood at the entrance and remained on a tense guard while waiting for everyone to reunite.


	12. Lies of Love and Memory

**FATE/LAOCH GAN FINSCEAL**

**“Hero Without Legend”**

**Chapter 12: Lies of Love and Memory**

Another dream.

This one was nowhere near as scary as the previous nightmare, but Connla found herself standing within a sea of beautiful glittering stars, completely isolated from anyone in the outside world. There was no one else around to keep her company, yet she didn’t mind. She just stood there in a languid daze, feeling her spirit get lost in the marvelous imaginary space surrounding her. She thought about her parents and teacher, reflecting upon just what sort of influence they really were to her.

_I asked Leonidas if it was okay for me to love Mother when she manipulated me so. After seeing Father become so rabid, I think I know my answer._

Connla held her spear before her, staring at the blade as it reflected the countless twinkling dots. Her haphazard feelings gradually concentrated themselves into comprehensible words.

_Mother never loved me. Father has always seen me as an obstacle. Teacher only cared about my fighting prowess._

Tiny comets streaked by in the distance.

_I am a weapon. A tool of destruction for others to use. I have no opinions or emotions._

Connla gazed into the distance, where a brand new figure materialized with her back facing her. The hair color and style were the same as hers albeit long enough to reach her legs, along with an identical of the leaf-bladed spear she held. However, this was a woman in about her early to mid 20s wearing a skin tight mint green bodysuit and metallic plates over her shapely spine, hips and legs. A white bolero covered her arms, and she sported earrings similar to Cuchulainn’s. The mystery woman did not look back at Connla, yet she felt a strong connection to her.

_So that was my future. No matter if I died at seven or 27 years old, I would have lived as a weapon. I doubt I would have even been allowed basic human rights – just fight, fight and fight until my body gave out. That’s what everyone wanted me to be back then. That’s what the World wants me to be now. My past, present and future are all the same thing._

Such thinking would have broken lesser men. For Connla however, it brought calm to her anxious heart.

_What a fool I am. Here I was trying to look for love, and it never existed in the first place. It’s just a fabrication to make people feel better. No one in my life loved me as a person. Mother and Father only cared about fashioning me into a fearsome warrior, and Teacher served to hone those skills further. Even now, Father still only sees me as an opponent to defeat. There’s no concept of family between us whatsoever._

The adult Connla silently turned around to face her younger self. Even though their brown eyes looked different between youth and adulthood, the same chilly cadence was there.

_If it’s the truth, no matter how cold it may be, I must accept it. To deny it is to reject the way of the world, which leads to delusion and heartbreak._

The two walked towards each other. The adult kneeled down so she was at the child’s height, and they pressed their palms together. They continued staring into each other’s eyes, not saying a word.

_I will reject the lie of love. Once I throw away what is unnecessary, I will be free of burden, and can fight without restraint._

The older Connla’s body shone a bright green, then transformed into sinewy threads that enveloped her younger self like how a silkworm would wrap its silk into wads. The threads eventually disappeared, leaving the child alone in the void.

_I’m okay now. My past and future are one, as they should be. Now, I must return to the present and perform my duty of saving the world from Father’s madness._

* * *

Connla stirred awake and slowly opened her eyes. She found herself lying on an old wooden floor inside a familiar building. Her head pounded like crazy and her body felt like one giant sore, but she ignored the pain and shuffled to a sitting position.

“Oh, little miss! You’re finally up!” she heard Spartacus exclaim behind her.

She turned around to find her comrades either standing or sitting in a circular formation. Sanson was busy healing Leonidas and Spartacus while listening to what Arash was saying. Once he saw Connla wake up however, the executioner hurried to her side and said, “Don’t move. I’ve closed some of your wounds, but you had the worst injuries among us.”

“Mm… I took Cuchulainn’s Noble Phantasm head on, then used one of my own.”

“You shouldn’t have fought him alone.”

“I didn’t want to burden you all with adding a Servant to that mob of creatures.”

“That’s no excuse. None of us want you to-“

“I said I’m fine. Just heal me already so we can get going.”

Sanson stopped pressing Connla when she retorted so sharply. He sighed in resignation and continued using his healing techniques on her. It would take some time for her to recover, so Leonidas said, “We were planning our battle strategy, Little One.”

“Did you guys manage to defeat those monsters on your own?” she asked.

“Of course. They had numbers, but our strength was greater than theirs. However, if we were to continue fighting such hordes on a continuous basis, we will not last much longer.”

“It’s because Area 51 is surrounded by cameras that monitor every mile of this desert,” Arash explained. “The government went so far as to monitor all of the towns and cities in this particular state, all to ensure that no one ever got close to the testing site without authorization.”

“Curses. If only there was some way of disabling their eyes over this whole place, then they wouldn’t be able to know where we are at all times!”

“Hm…” the archer hummed listlessly. “It’ll be fine. Those devices are controlled by a main satellite that relays all images back to headquarters. Taking out all of the cameras is impossible, but if the mother transmitter is destroyed, that will disable the entire network and render the enemy blind to our movements.”

“You’re using such difficult words, my friend.”

“You learn quite a bit when surrounded by the technology of this era. In any case, I will see to it that the cameras are taken down for good.”

“Do you have some sort of plan?”

“I do, but I won’t say what it is just yet,” Arash said with a strangely reassuring smile.

“Such coyness is unfitting for you, friend,” Spartacus remarked. “I can understand the little miss hiding information, but you?”

“What do you mean ‘hiding information’?”

“First she’s not able to tell us her name, and now we have Cuchulainn mercilessly oppressing her for no apparent reason!”

“Oh, yes. To be honest, I’m just as baffled as you are about why he would isolate her from us.”

Sanson murmured, “She told me that she doesn’t know him personally,” then faced her with a stony glare and said, “Now I see that you were lying.”

Connla frowned and looked away, determined to keep her mouth shut.

“How do you know him? Please, tell us,” the executioner urged. “If we don’t know, we can’t help you fight him.”

“He’s… my problem.”

“In what way!?”

“I have some business with him. That’s all.”

“Even after you narrowly escape death by his clutches, you still refuse to say anything!?”

“I said I will take care of Cuchulainn. There are still other Servants that you four need to deal with, right? You should worry about them instead of my relationship with that man.”

“Kgh-!” Sanson snarled.

Leonidas interrupted, “As hard as it is for me to say this, she is right about our priorities. Still, I cannot fathom the idea that that was the real Cuchulainn.”

“Perhaps he was an impostor all along! You know, like one of those homuncu-things that humans make to serve as slaves for their oppressive ways,” Spartacus suggested.

“No, it was him,” Connla firmly interjected.  “There’s no mistaking those techniques. And that spear… It doesn’t look the same as before, but it’s definitely Gae Bolg. That man is, without a doubt, Cuchulainn.”

Leonidas fell silent for a tense moment. “Although it is hard to believe, if she and Arash say that’s who he is, then I have no choice but to believe them.”

“Yes, that was Ireland’s Child of Light,” Arash repeated himself, “except he isn’t the same as in the legend. For whatever reason, his heart has been warped and distorted into something inhuman, and the dark armor he clads himself in is supposedly a symbol of his mental breakdown. I honestly had no idea what would cause such a legendary Lancer to instead appear as a Berserker…”

He faced the stoic Connla and murmured under his breath, “But maybe she’s the answer to that. Otherwise he wouldn’t have specifically targeted her. I should ask for her True Name and-”

“It is futile to try,” Leonidas warned him. “She’s forbidden from saying who she is. Neither Spartacus nor I know what her identity is, so we have been referring to her by nicknames. Her determination to conceal her connection to that Berserker should also be recognized.”

“She is forbidden…? Ah, she must have a geas. If she is related to Cuchulainn and Celtic mythology, that may explain it. That might also be why she never used a Noble Phantasm until now – she had to come up with one that wouldn’t give away her identity. I suppose it can’t be helped then.”

Sanson finished healing Connla, and she stood back up with his help. He told her, “Don’t push yourself. Some sores opened up as a result of excess stress on your body.”

“That’s normal,” she assured, which didn’t sound comforting to him at all. “Back when I was training under Mother, she expected me to fight so hard that I would bleed out at least once a week.”

Now he was hopelessly flabbergasted. “What!? That’s absurd! It’s like she wanted you to die!”

“Maybe not to die… But perhaps to suffer because I was Father’s child. She hated him so much that she must’ve taken it out on me.”

“I don’t understand,” Sanson appeared strained. His expression changed into something fierce and grim as he declared, “If it were me, I would have had petitioned for her execution since she posed such a serious threat to her child.”

“No! Even now knowing what her true feelings were, I still would never want that!”

“That’s because you have been brainwashed into thinking her abuse was affection. If she put you through such horrors without you realizing it, then she never really loved you.”

“How would you know what love is? You don’t know what Mother was like.”

“Believe me…” he fell silent, then put his hands on her shoulders. “I know. When you have the duty of cutting down an evil that is growing within the ones you love and admire, you start to understand what it is you loved and why it is painful to have to sever its mortal coil. I do not know much of your past, but it sounds like your interactions were solely limited to your mother’s guidance. From my perspective, it is a twisted form of maternity that exists only to inflict suffering upon the ones she gives birth to. An evil like that should never have been allowed to exist, and I would have gladly ended it for your sake.”

“… What are you trying to say?” Connla murmured.

“You don’t need to live up to her ridiculous expectations anymore. If your body cannot handle the stresses of full-fledged combat, then don’t suffer in silence. Tell us, and we will do everything we can to keep you safe.”

“That won’t be easy. I’ve been told all my life that I need to fight as a one-person army. That’s why I trained so hard; not just to please Mother, but to also be self-sufficient as a warrior. I know I can fight Cuchulainn again. I won’t let him escape next time.”

Sanson let out an exasperated sigh. “The scars on your body are telling me otherwise. If you were 10 years older, then you would be capable of living up to such high standards. Right now, you are much too fragile to even think about fighting such battles against Cuchulainn one after the other. There’s only so much I can do to heal you. The rest depends on you knowing your limits.”

Connla didn’t say anything in response. She had never heard anyone say such kind words to her before. It was always, “Push yourself. Surpass your limits. Go until you can go no further.” She wasn’t sure what to make of the executioner’s advice.

“That’s enough,” Leonidas interfered. “I second your opinion about the Little One’s safety, but your opinions about her mother are uncalled for. Such harsh words are poison to someone who loves her parents unconditionally, even if we believe they are horrible people.”

“I understand,” Sanson said. “It isn’t like I can do anything about it anyway. I just wanted her to change her way of thinking so she could last longer in this war.”

“You could be less abrasive about it. She is not as experienced with the ways of the world as we are.”

“I apologize. I will watch what I say around her.”

“No,” Connla suddenly said. “You can be as blunt as you wish. I know the truth. Nothing that anyone says will scare me away from it.”

“… Little One?” Leonidas whispered, finally noticing the drastic change in her attitude.

Spartacus exclaimed, “If the little miss is ready, can we get going already? There are villains that are waiting to be put in their place!”

“Before we leave this place, I must prepare for taking down that transmitter,” Arash said and went outside first, then jumped onto the roof. The others weren’t sure what he was up to and followed him.

* * *

Cuchulainn returned to Area 51 and leaned against the wall to keep his balance. He had lost more blood than he thought and was feeling rather woozy.

_Phew… That was quite the Noble Phantasm she discovered. She had the rage and frustration of countless forgotten souls contained within her spear. But I’m happy. Now she and I can fight on equal terms._

He entered his chambers and fell upon the bed, relieved to not have to trudge about anymore. He stared at the drab grey ceiling tiredly and focused on his breathing for a few quiet minutes.

“Welcome back.”

Cuchulainn widened his eyes when he heard the unexpected greeting and sat back up. Hidden in the darkest corner of the room was a familiar grey-haired gentleman, who gave the Berserker a bow.

“What do you want, Archer?” the spearman growled. “If it’s something stupid, I’ll kill you without second thought.”

“Come now, there’s no need for such hostility,” Moriarty defended himself. “You did quite well against a Noble Phantasm that history has never been seen before. I just thought I’d congratulate you on surviving something so unforgiving and deadly.”

“That’s not why you’re here. What do you want from me?”

“Hah… I suppose there is no point in trying to fool you. Like Agrippina, I’ve been growing rather curious about the young lady whom you lost against. Despite all the information we have on the other Servants, she miraculously still remains anonymous. I wouldn’t say it’s Presence Concealment from a Lancer, but something close to it. Furthermore, I could not help but notice how her fighting style is virtually identical to yours. She does not possess Gae Bolg, but her god-like speed and spear techniques more than make up for such a shortcoming. Then again, if she had that weapon, it would mislead others into believing she is a version of Cuchulainn as a child. After all, did you not kill a canine beast when you were around her age? It’d be bad if the world was mistaken in identifying her True Name as yours.”

“Get to the point already, you old fop.”

“I believe I shall. I did some research into your background and wanted to confirm something with you. I believe the young Lancer is indeed someone you know quite well, rather than an alternate version of yourself. Am I wrong in assuming that her True Name is Connla, the bastard child conceived between you and the Scottish warrior woman Aife?”

The mutated Celtic hero said nothing. Moriarty continued, “She is a seven-year old child bound to three geasa, trained under Scathach so she fights very similarly to you, sent to your homeland so you two may clash in a death match duel due to Aife’s hatred of you besmirching her honor. There is no other person who fits those criteria.”

“… Let me make one correction to your theory.”

Cuchulainn faced the mathematician, and _riastrad_ kicked in as the Berserker’s face contorted with creases of anger.

“She is no unwanted bastard. I chose Aife to bear Connla because she was a magnificent warrior who could give me a child blessed with such skill. I waited in anticipation for Connla’s arrival so I could pass my legacy to her. Continue to use such parlance around me and your head will part ways with your neck.”

“Oh, my apologies,” Moriarty delivered another bow that hardly appeared humble. “I did not mean to offend you. I simply wanted to be sure that my deduction was correct. So, am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not. That Lancer is indeed my daughter Connla. I would say I’m surprised you figured it out, but knowing who you are, I believed you would be the first out of anyone to understand.”

“Please, good sir, I deserve no such praise. All it took was some simple research into your background. Granted, a large part of the girl’s history has been lost to time, but reading between the lines is a skill I have come to acquire over the years.”

“So what’s the point of you asking me something so redundant?” Cuchulainn demanded. “You trying to find some sort of leverage over me, Mr. Criminal Mastermind? Don’t bother trying. My spear only exists to clash with hers in battle.”

“No, no, no, please don’t get the wrong idea,” Moriarty stopped him. “I only believed it was proper to dispense with this charade and clear the air about our intentions.”

“Intentions?”

“Since you have confirmed her identity to me, that poses another issue – namely that the Throne of Heroes has not recorded her name, yet she is here as a Servant. The only way to bypass this is to make a wish upon the Holy Grail, and the only one who has any sort of connection with her is you. Therefore, the only conclusion to such logic is that you are the one who wished her to become a Servant who would challenge you. But no matter how hard you may try to subvert the law of the Throne, eventually she will return to the realm of oblivion, for she has all but been forgotten by the world. One who accomplishes nothing is not a hero, but a passing curiosity.”

“Is that what you think?” Cuchulainn snarled. “You saw her Noble Phantasm, did you not? Those who have been lost to time gave their collective strength to a hero to represent them. No one is more suitable to be the face of the forgotten as she is.”

“Yet that strength will be wasted if she does not stop you and save this world. If humans do not remember her for any sort of accomplishment, the Throne likewise will not. If such a wish does not come true for you, what will you do?”

The dark-armored Berserker sighed. Moriarty had him completely figured out. There wasn’t much point in trying to conceal his desires to the criminal gentleman any longer.

“Humans are so disgusting,” he murmured sullenly. “They consciously extol the lives of the righteous and noble through saccharine propaganda, which is fine in itself. But in reality, they have a better time remembering those who lived depraved existences, going so far as to hail them as ‘heroes’, which in turn ascends them to the Throne. Such creatures like Carmilla, Gilles de Rais, Caligula, and even Medb have escaped the clutches of obscurity even though they are the most horrible human beings to have ever walked the face of this earth. Even I am no honorable hero, but a killer who just happened to survive for as long as I did. All ‘heroes’ are the result of such bloodthirsty tenacity, are they not?”

“So they are. How wise you are for recognizing such hypocrisy.”

“Yet for each person remembered, how many more has the Throne consigned to be tossed in this world’s equivalent of the garbage bin? Out of sight, out of mind, out of memory. Their successes, failures, emotions, and legacies mean nothing to the Throne, even though they may be more deserving than the monsters that have been recorded. Connla may represent those lost souls, yet she too is as forsaken as they are. If she cannot fulfill my wish and overcome the Throne’s – no, humanity’s blatantly skewed bias…”

Cuchulainn put his hand over his tattooed chest. Something seemed to shine beneath it for a second, and Moriarty raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

“I will erase it all,” the Berserker murmured. “A world that tosses aside the innocent ones in favor of immortalizing monsters is a world better off destroyed.”

Moriarty ran his fingers through his swept bangs in admiration. He smiled slightly and said, “Well, well. This quite the surprise, Sir Cuchulainn. I did not know you harbored such feelings for this world. Yes, I see that you have thought this through quite carefully, even though none of it is for your benefit. Or is it? Perhaps this is all naught more but a way to sate your ego by displaying your long-lost daughter as your worthy successor. She is like your trophy, if you would.”

“Ego? Successor? Trophy? Don’t be ridiculous. I simply repressed those thoughts for too long, and now they have finally come to the surface to control my actions. All I want is for her to become a Servant. If this entire world winds up denying her what she deserves, then I will show everyone the horror of being lost to time forever. I couldn’t care less what happens afterwards.”

Cuchulainn closed his eyes and thought of something sentimental that he would never say to Moriarty;

_No matter what the outcome is, I’ll be by her side… So she won’t have to be lonely anymore._

“I see,” the criminal mastermind murmured. “I understand you very well. We humans are cancerous beings who thrive by devouring those we deem lesser in value, and the Throne is simply a reflection of this. Humans have the power to pick and choose who they want to remember, especially in this age where there are so many people in this world that the value of human life has dropped drastically compared to the ancient days. We are creatures of convenience, bound to use what is most efficient for us, whether they be tools, machines, animals, or fellow humans.

“Yes… I have a newfound respect for you, Sir Cuchulainn. Just like you, I acknowledge the evil festering within myself and this putrid world. What good is it to keep things as they are anymore? Just as a doctor excises cancerous tumors, we monsters have a responsibility to cull this world’s hypocrisy.”

“I thought you were only interested in starting wars to rake in the profits. What gives with the genocidal attitude?” Cuchulainn wondered curiously.

“Hoh hoh. Perhaps it is the result of being summoned in this timeline. Does it not affect you as well? This world, bursting to the seams with more humans than ever before, is just as barbaric as the days of Genghis Khan, the Spanish Inquisition, the Holocaust, and much more. It just goes under a more colorful banner as the War on Terror. This false peace will soon crack, and there will be millions more slaughtered in the name of petty desires. What good is amassing a fortune if all the spending in the world will not fix humanity’s repeated mistakes? Better to just clean up the place and start from fresh.”

“Hmph. So what are you trying to say? That you’ll cooperate with me? Or are you trying to find some way to make sure Connla fails so you can see your planetary destruction to its fruition?”

Moriarty let out a hearty bellow and clapped a few times. “My, my! You understand me so well! I had thought of that, but in honor of your keen insight into my black heart, I will refrain from interfering with your affairs. I will allow everything to happen according to your story, for it is a very well-written one. I feel it would do such a fine tale injustice if I tried to meddle in your authorship.”

“So you’re saying you know everything, but won’t butt in. Could’ve just said that right from the start.”

“You know how hopelessly loquacious I tend to be. All I shall say is that if something goes horribly wrong and you are unable to unleash Armageddon upon this world, I will take care of things in your stead. It is the least I can do for a fellow psychopath.”

“A gentleman’s agreement? Whatever. Stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.”

“Of course. I look forward to seeing the conclusion of your daughter’s legend-in-progress. My, if only Shakespeare were here. He would have loved to partake in such creativity and imagination.”

They heard an alarm blaring in the hallway, and Agrippina’s voice suddenly exclaimed over the intercom, _“Cuchulainn! Moriarty! Come to the commander’s room this instant! We’ve got trouble!”_

“Oh my. Looks like our resident toxic empress demands our presence,” Moriarty said, calmly adjusting his glasses. “Shall we see what has the lady so flustered?”

“Where the hell is Xerxes in all of this?” Cuchulainn asked.

“Deteriorating into a pitiful state of sickness and madness.”

“Expected nothing less from that domineering witch.”


	13. Villain and Executioner

**FATE/LAOCH GAN FINSCEAL**

**“Hero Without Legend”**

**Chapter 13: Villain and Executioner**

Arash stood tall upon the roof of the abandoned building, facing north with a determined expression. Connla called out to him, “What are you going to do?”

He looked over with a reassuring smile. “I’m going to take down the enemy’s eyes.”

“But according to my intel, the satellite is still miles away! Even if you are an Archer, there’s no way your shot will come even close!” Sanson told him.

“Have you forgotten who you’re talking to? I was the one who drew the boundary for the Persians and Turans with my shot.”

“No! You’re not going to…!?”

“I’m sorry, but if you four want to have any chance of fighting Xerxes on equal grounds, I have to do this. As a fellow Persian, I believed in his dream of reviving our civilization, but his mind has become too twisted for me to continue following anymore. I fear that the Persia he’d have revived would be one that reflects his heart; a country of madness, insanity, and egotism. I have no choice but to trust you all to help him see the error of his ways.”

Arash glanced over at Leonidas and said, “On behalf of the Persian Empire, I would like to apologize to you and your nation for Lord Xerxes encroaching upon your lands, forcing you to give up your life in defense of your home.”

“There is no need for such words,” the Spartan said. “You did nothing to apologize for.”

“I know. I just felt like saying it before making a selfish request. If possible, I want you to put him down so his insanity does not besmirch my people’s honor any longer, and that the people of this modern world can return to living their peaceful lives again.”

“Worry not. I intended to bring him to justice the moment I heard he was involved in this. I will fight for your sake as well, Swift Archer.”

“Thank you.”

Arash turned back northward and prepared his bow. The wind picked up, as if responding to the man’s conviction, and streams of fiery energy began to converge upon the tip of his arrow. As the aura grew stronger with each second, wounds exploded over his body and drenched him in blood. His stance never faltered as he called out the chant for his Noble Phantasm.

“O holy Lord. O radiant Lord who grants wisdom, majesty and strength! My heart, my thoughts, and all that I can see! Come, servants of the moon and the stars! My actions, my last moments, my sacred devotion; witness it all! With all my might, I shall release this one arrow, and let my body be crushed upon this place!”

The four heroes watched in apprehension as Arash’s power reached its climax, and he shouted his final word:

**_“STELLA!”_ **

He released the bowstring and let his arrow fly into the horizon. The force behind it was so incredible that the shockwave tore through the ground and carved a distinct line. Then, his body turned into a dark shadow… No, not a silhouette. It was _ash_. Since his soul transferred itself from his human form to his fired arrow, there was no need to keep his body around anymore. It disintegrated into a gust of cinders that scattered in the arid winds and sprinkled over the dirt. Connla was especially astonished to watch the remains scatter past her. She wasn’t sure if she should have been amazed or sad at watching a man be sublimated. All she could do was stand there in silence.

* * *

In the main control room, Cuchulainn and Moriarty met with Xerxes and Agrippina to see what the fuss was about. They were about to ask, but when they saw Arash charging his Noble Phantasm, they realized why the female Caster sounded so flustered earlier.

“Damn him! Damn him, _damn him, **damn him!**_ ” Xerxes ranted uncontrollably. “Do something about this, Archer!”

“Oh dear. I fear my services have been called upon much too late to prevent this,” Moriarty calmly replied.

“Gaaaagh! My Servants, my dream, and now my eyes over this nation! Worthless! Scum! Everything and everyone is **_completely USELESS!_** ”

Just as the mad king shouted this, all of Area 51 rocked about violently as Arash’s arrow reached the transmitter and detonated in a powerful explosion. The four Servants struggled to keep themselves upright through the worst of the turbulence. When the chaos calmed down, Xerxes audibly gasped for air while glaring at the now blackened screens.

“Quite the predicament we’re in, Lord Xerxes,” Agrippina said. “What shall we do?”

“Gah… Ugh… W-We fight! I’ll destroy every last one of them myself if I have to! Especially that bastard Leonidas! He’ll pay for making me look like a fool in the history books!”

“So it would seem. If you want a job done, best to do it yourself, no? Besides, even with the monitors down, I know those stragglers will simply follow the path that Arash’s shot left behind.”

“Indeed! We must strike them down all at once!”

As Xerxes and Agrippina left to prepare for the upcoming showdown, Cuchulainn said to Moriarty, “I’m sure Spartacus would follow Arash’s path, but I’m doubtful of the other Servants being so predictable.”

“I was thinking the same thing, my good fellow,” the gentleman replied. “They may try to split themselves up and go a roundabout way to confuse us.”

“Yeah. What do you think, Mr. Strategist?”

“Although we cannot guarantee this to be the case, I believe it would be too great a risk to have eight Servants gathered in one spot. They would want to try and break up the numbers so that they are not overwhelmed by Noble Phantasms left and right.”

“It’s not a definite plan, but we should at least try to prevent them from getting a pincer attack on us. I take one side and you the other?”

“While I am not fond of directly participating in the conflicts my dastardly plans brew, I am also open to making exceptions. Very well. We shall signal to each other if we are in dire need of each other’s assistance.”

With that, the four malevolent Servants marched through Area 51’s exit to go face their heroic counterparts in an epic climax.

* * *

Back in Yucca Flat, the four Servants watched the meteor-like shot fade into the sky. A few minutes later, they could see the signs of an explosion from far away. Leonidas stared at the path which Arash’s arrow carved and murmured, “It is done. So long as his trajectory is true, the enemy will have lost their sight over our movements.”

“This may be helpful for Earp’s group as well,” Sanson said. “It will serve as our signal that both factions are ready to move.”

“Have you made contact with him yet?”

“I haven’t. I don’t understand why he hasn’t tried to reach back to me.”

“No point in relying on others to fight the rebellion for you!” Spartacus exclaimed. “In honor of our friend’s sacrifice, let us sally forth and bring an end to the evil tyrants who terrorize in the name of domination!”

Without waiting for the others to stop him, he hurried alongside the steaming hot scar across the land and followed its path, knowing it would lead him to the villains’ headquarters.

“That lout!” Leonidas cursed. “Does he not know how obvious that direction is for us to take!? The enemy will surely be lying in wait to ambush us if we went that way!”

“Well, he will be happy to fight anyone who is thinking the same way he is,” Sanson said. “Perhaps you should aid him so he isn’t overwhelmed. I’ll take the girl and find a way around.”

“Hm… Perhaps this is better for us. With eight Servants total, we would not want our most powerful attacks to devastate the land. Very well, I will go with Spartacus and provide cover for him.”

“All right. We’ll reconvene once the battle is over.”

The executioner looked around to see if there was a different section of land he and Connla could traverse in secret. Before the young spearman could follow him, Leonidas stopped her by uttering, “Just let me ask you one thing before we part ways, Little One.”

“What is it?”

“I cannot help but think about that story you told me earlier – about your father being the one who killed you, and of your mother using you as a tool for her vengeance against him. Now with Cuchulainn setting his sights on you, along with your very similar fighting styles… Am I wrong to assume that he is the man who sired you?”

Connla was quiet for a moment. She wasn’t sure what to say so that it didn’t involve breaking her geas. After some careful consideration, she quietly responded, “I’m not allowed to acknowledge it. But I won’t deny it either, so I suppose you could take that as my admission.”

“I feared so,” he murmured darkly. Goosebumps prickled his skin, and a shudder ran up his spine. “He is forcing such trials upon his own flesh and blood. It’s no wonder your countenance has changed so drastically. It is as if you have lost faith in everything you have believed in.”

“It’s okay. It is the way of us Celts to throw the cub into the volcano to prove its strength.”

The Spartan was appalled to hear such harsh words coming from her. He urged, “Don’t say such a thing. That man may have succumbed to insanity for whatever reason, but he is still your father.”

“Your way of thinking is too naïve. It must be because you’re a historical figure, whereas I am a character from mythology. Our two universes operate on completely different principles of what love is. Whereas you folks from real life cherish it and find deviations of the moral code unacceptable, we mythological beings find our horrendously warped concept of it as part of the norm. In my world, parents are capable of anything against their children – murder, manipulation, incest, abandonment, you name it. Compared to that, Cuchulainn putting me through trials of fire is no big deal.”

“But…”

“Are we done talking about this? We’d best not lag any further, or the others will be upset.”

Connla ran to catch up with Sanson, leaving Leonidas dumbfounded.

_Earlier she was asking me if it was all right to love her mother. Now she has completely reversed her way of thinking and rejects those she believed were closest to her._

He narrowed his eyes.

_Cuchulainn, you bastard. You did something to break her heart. The only way she can cope with it is to close herself to everyone and become a soulless weapon to defeat you._

He gripped his spear tightly and followed Spartacus down the gutted crevice.

* * *

Sanson and Connla headed east from Yucca Flat toward Sheep Range, where they planned on skirting the border of the mountains, going north, then curving back west toward the northern sector of Area 51. Their trek was uneventful for the next few hours, although Connla kept looking back at the massive land scar Arash’s shot made and worrying about Spartacus and Leonidas’ safety.

“Do you think they will be all right?” she asked her partner.

“We can only have faith in them,” he replied. “All the two of us can do is flank the enemy and launch a surprise attack while their defenses are down. I’m just praying that Earp’s team will make it in time to help us out.”

“I hope so too.”

They continued alongside the mountain range, hurrying as fast as they could to get their plan in motion. But, as with all well-made plans, there often tended to be a hitch. Against the early afternoon sky, the silhouette of a man wielding a cane in one hand and some strange coffin-like device suddenly soared into the air above them. One of the man’s blue eyes glowed as he set his sights on the pair like a hawk that had found a mouse.

“Noble Phantasm, liberated! My final formula, the perfect felony, I shall prove here! **Ultimate Crime!** ”

Sanson and Connla gasped as James Moriarty unleashed his strongest attack without warning. He rode the coffin like a tank while unloading countless bullets from the front turret, forcing the heroes to scatter in different directions. As if the bullets weren’t enough, he fired dozens of missiles that homed on them and separated to take chase.

“GWAH!” Sanson shouted as he narrowly avoided the explosion directly behind him, but was sent crashing face-first upon the ground.

“KYAAH!” Connla shrieked while somersaulting in the air. She tumbled about violently until she stopped on her side and gasped. Both of them suffered some scratches and burns, but not enough to take them down. They looked up to see Moriarty dismount the unusual contraption he carried and stood in a poised position with his cane.

“You!” the Frenchman exclaimed with boiling anger in his icy blue eyes. “So _you’re_ the West Persian Empire’s strategist and Archer – the eternal rival of Sherlock Holmes, James Moriarty!”

“Ah, yes, it is I. None other than the humble professor and lord of the underworld,” Moriarty replied with an amicable smile. “I believe this is the first time we meet, Monsieur Charles-Henri, fourth head of the Sanson dynasty of executioners. A pleasure to come face-to-face with a man who knows all too well the necessary evils that humans must commit to preserve the greater good.”

He then bowed at Connla and continued, “Greetings to you as well, my fair lady. Even though you are as an immature bud, I acknowledge the womanhood that blooms oh-so ripe within you. ‘Tis as if Irene Adler were here to grace us with her queenly presence. Your wit and cunning are so keen that you too have the potential to be a criminal mastermind such as I. Not that I would ever subject such a good-hearted lass to the fangs of true evil; your unreciprocated purity is what makes you all the more delightful to tarnish.”

Sanson shot to his feet and wielded his sword. “That’s enough empty flattery, villain. Since you’re the only Servant who has found us, your death penalty will be all but assured.”

“Hoh hoh. Trying to play judge and jury along with the executioner? You should know it is proper course for me to have a fair trial first.”

“This is different. Not only do you gladly profess your blighted existence, you and your accomplices have committed numerous acts of murder and treason upon this grand nation. Your confession is just as good as my sentence.”

“Is it now? Hah hah hah! Very good! I’ve heard that your resolve often wavers when it comes to your duty, but I see no such faltering in this moment. Your eyes yearn for my blood to be spilled in the name of justice – a sordid task fitting for none other than the man who ended his beloved queen’s life. But I wonder if your skill will live up to your determination, young man. You should know that I am not aware of the concept of mercy! Hah hah!”

“Laugh while you can. It won’t be long before Earp and the others come with reinforcements.”

“Wyatt Earp? Oh, that boisterous fellow who protected Carson City. I nearly forgot about him,” Moriarty chuckled. “Allow me to deliver the unfortunate news to you then; no one is going to come save your merry band of renegades. You are the only survivor of Earp’s faction.”

“No! That can’t be right!” Sanson exclaimed in total disbelief.

“Oh, but it is. The Berserker version of Ireland’s greatest hero is quite the bloodthirsty creature. He is not satisfied until every last one of his enemies lays dead at his feet. He certainly lived up to his legendary strength by completely slaughtering that gunman’s group. It was as if they had walked straight into his abattoir! Heh heh heh!”

While the Frenchman couldn’t believe what he was hearing, Connla understood what Moriarty was talking about. She witnessed firsthand how brutal Cuchulainn could be, so it was no surprise to her that he had the capacity to wipe out an entire battalion. Sanson still had a hard time digesting this news as he realized, “Then we four are the only ones left…!”

Connla gasped as she saw Moriarty prepare his coffin-like contraption. He exclaimed, “Reichenbach! Let us commence our lesson of humility upon these unschooled youngsters!”

It whirred open to reveal dozens of missile and machine gun turrets, which he aimed at the duo.

_“Run, Mr. Sanson!”_ she shouted and grabbed his wrist. The bewildered headsman snapped out of his dismayed reverie and hurried along with her as Moriarty unleashed a bevy of baseball-sized missiles at them. They jumped, tumbled and dashed about in a frenzy to avoid the second barrage as smoke and dirt rose all around them. They skidded to a stop and glared back at Moriarty’s form as he elegantly walked through the dust cloud.

“Kgh-!” Sanson gasped.

“Snap out of it!” Connla urged him. “Didn’t you say you would subject Archer to the full punishment of the guillotine for his crimes against humanity!? I know you can do it! You have to stand up and fight, even if victory seems hopeless!”

He glanced at her in surprise. True, he wasn’t an accomplished fighter in his lifetime, but neither was Moriarty. He also thought about how Connla survived against Cuchulainn even though her power was much weaker than his. Now was not the time for him to stand around in shock at the loss of his previous comrades. He had a job to do, both as a Servant and an executioner. Sanson tightly gripped his black sword and clenched his teeth as he glared at Moriarty with a new passion in his eyes.

“Right… I’m sorry for forgetting that,” he murmured. “I know what I have to do.”

“Have you said your final prayers, my troubled _bourreau_?” Moriarty asked grimly, tightening his glove over his hand. “Then I shall send you back to the Throne posthaste, where your friends eagerly await your return.”

“I don’t think so!”

Sanson rushed at his opponent and smashed his sword against the coffin, which Moriarty used as a bulky shield. Connla readied her spear and shouted, “I’ll help you too!”

“Oh? That doesn’t sound like a good idea, young lady,” the criminal mastermind shifted his eyes in her direction. “While you are presently occupied, Cuchulainn scours this vapid wasteland in search for you, for we anticipated that you would divide your forces like this. I’m sure Spartacus and Leonidas will have their hands full with those pretend rulers, and the boy has set his sights on me, so no one will be able to stop him from hunting you down. I wonder what you will do, hm?”

She grew nervous when she heard this. She didn’t know if she should stay and fight alongside her partner, go find Spartacus and Leonidas for backup, or continue with the pincer plan by herself and risk facing Cuchulainn without any help. Sanson pushed himself away from Moriarty and got in front of Connla. He exclaimed, “Don’t worry about me! Go on ahead, and keep your eyes open for Cuchulainn! If it gets dangerous, get Leonidas to provide you with cover!”

After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded and shouted before leaving, “Be careful!”

Moriarty made no attempt to shoot her down, which perplexed Sanson. The Englishman adjusted his glasses and murmured to himself, “Even though we stand in opposition, I am not so crass as to deny that man the reunion he seeks. Go fulfill your destiny, and bring peace to your counterpart’s torn heart, honorable maiden.”

“What are you muttering about?” the headsman demanded.

“Oh, my. Just the ramblings of an old fool. Well then, shall we begin this dance, my French rival? If you have the skill and conviction, then come! Try your utmost to execute me upon your guillotine, which you loved more than your king, queen, and country!”

Moriarty’s taunting set off Sanson’s proverbial berserk button, and he charged once against at the gentleman with renewed fury and fervor.


	14. End of an Empire

**FATE/LAOCH GAN FINSCEAL**

**“Hero Without Legend”**

**Chapter 14: End of an Empire**

Spartacus and Leonidas ran alongside the scar in the land, knowing that Area 51 would just be ahead along with the enemy forces. Spartacus was especially excited to get this battle underway, and the ones who greeted him with violence didn’t disappoint. A flurry of knives shot down at him, which he made no attempt to dodge. He either batted them aside with his gladius or simply absorbed some in his adamant flesh.

“Oh hoh hoh! The oppressors have finally arrived!” he declared.

Waiting for the two warriors were Xerxes and Agrippina, with a small group of aliens at the ready behind them. However, the roles of commander and follower had clearly been reversed by this point. Agrippina was the one who stood tall as the dominator, while Xerxes had lost himself to madness from her poisons and was little more than a rabid dog who followed her commands.

“Xerxes!” Leonidas shouted. “We meet upon the field of battle once again! I was denied the opportunity of showing you the folly of your conquest, but now you shall know the grudge I have carried for centuries!”

“Gah… L-Leo… Leoni… daa~aas…!” the insane Persian king raved.

“What is this?” the Spartan wondered, baffled by his eternal rival’s nonsensical behavior. “Are you truly the same Xerxes who besieged my nation?”

“My… empire… Persia will return… Stay out… of my way…!”

Agrippina smiled and said, “It is pointless to talk to him. He has become my faithful hound.”

Leonidas demanded darkly, “What in evil hell have you done to him, woman?”

“Not much. A little something extra in his beverage, an additional pinch of ‘spices’ to his meal, and before I knew it, his position was mine for the taking. Unlike Nero, Xerxes remained oblivious to the bitter end.”

He scowled, remembering what Sanson said about Agrippina’s identity and history. He bellowed angrily, “Have you no code of honor, vixen!? ‘Tis as if you are not human!”

“Please, spare me the morality tirade. The only things that matter in this world are money and power. Everything and everyone else should be seen as a stepping stone towards that goal.”

The Spartan growled like a livid animal. Then Spartacus got in front of him and said with his typical smile, “Don’t bother trying to reason with a false queen who spouts delusions of grandeur. Your battle is with that fallen king, for however of a tyrant he may have been, he did not deserve to be walked upon as this shrew’s doormat. I know you will set him free of her puppet strings so he does not besmirch his name any further. I shall drag our self-righteous empress off her throne and execute her for intoxicating all those around her.”

“… You have my gratitude,” Leonidas murmured, then ran off to confront Xerxes. Although he was concerned about stopping the king’s schemes today, he also felt a need to confront his past and bring closure to the battle that he did not survive. He wished he could tell Xerxes how he felt about trying to take over the Greek city-states and the needless suffering it caused, but he realized that it was impossible to convey anything when the king had succumbed to insanity against his will.

“L-L-LEO…!” Xerxes snarled. “Gaaah! The eclipse! I see it again! My empire… denied to me… AGAIN!”

Leonidas shook his head in dismay. “You poor creature… You are no longer in your right mind anymore, are you? Such a shame that my opportunity to rationally speak with you has been lost. Then the least I can do-“

He raised his spear and shield in a confident pose.

_“Is put you to sleep!”_

“HRAAAGH!” the Persian king unleashed a carnal battle cry and drew out his acinaces, a type of long dagger with a straight double-edged blade. Despite his weapon of choice, one had to remember that Xerxes had been summoned as a Rider, meaning that his real strength came from the army he commanded for his march into Europe. Leonidas knew that as long as Xerxes did not rely on his Noble Phantasm to call back that strength, he would be able to take down the king in an honest duel. Although they were both rulers of different nations, the king of Sparta had the tactical advantage of knowing how to fight one-on-one, whereas the king of Persia did not.

With this knowledge in the back of his mind, Leonidas made the first strike by rushing at Xerxes and stabbing his spear at his midsection. Xerxes responded by sidestepping and slashing his dagger wildly at Leonidas, getting in some cuts. He disregarded the pain and bashed his shield against Xerxes’ chin to knock him into a stupor, then delivered some of his own thrusts and swipes that gouged through skin and made blood fly. They continued in this inelegant way for several minutes, with Leonidas’ defenses matching evenly against Xerxes’ offensive techniques.

Once Xerxes had enough of trying to overcome his rival, he leapt back to give himself some distance before raising his short sword in a grand display of power.

 **“Ahuramazda Jeiš!”** †

Upon chanting the name of his Noble Phantasm, Xerxes’ weapon shone bright, and thousands of small spirit-like wisps flickered into existence before rushing for the king and enveloping him in their power. These were the souls of his army who had returned on his command to once again give him the force needed to overcome his enemies. It was a huge battalion devoted to their leader and the god he worshipped, Ahuramazda, even after they had lost the invasion on Greece. This was a Noble Phantasm representing Xerxes’ aggression through his forces, which temporarily gave him the strength of around 100,000 men.

“Kh-!” Leonidas grunted. He could feel the immense power in the winds alone. Trying to take on Xerxes in this state would be suicide. He needed to respond accordingly with the defensive might he was immortalized for. Without hesitation, Leonidas raised his shield and called upon his Noble Phantasm.

**“Thermopylae Enomotia!”**

The hundreds of shields returned and surrounded him with the strength not to be aggressive, but to defend and survive against even entire armies. His unique skill Divinity of the Rearguards also gave him the added benefit of amplifying his power the more disadvantageous his situation was, which was certainly the case now when he only had hundreds to rely on whereas Xerxes had tens of thousands. Despite the obvious imbalance, Leonidas could still match Xerxes’ offensive power with an equally stalwart wall of defense. The kings glared at each other with zealous lust for battle, seeking to end this bitter rivalry once and for all. Once they were ready, they dashed straight for each other like angry bulls, and nothing was going to get in their way.

**_“LEONIDAAA~AAAS!”_ **

**_“XERXEEE~EES!”_ **

The two men rammed their Noble Phantasms against each other’s in an epic display of savagery and testosterone. The air blew everywhere in a circular shockwave as their powers clashed in a mighty display of timeless opposition. Dried dirt exploded in an outward gust, clearly showing the result of their incredible contest against a background of dissipating brown fog.

“… Gah…”

It was Xerxes who let out the hollow gasp. Within the storm, Leonidas had managed to overcome his might and jam his spear through his heart. The acinaces relinquished his army’s souls so they could return to the land of the departed, leaving him as nothing more than a dead Servant pinned upon a polearm. Xerxes couldn’t say anything. His consciousness was already long gone as his body glowed and disappeared, leaving Leonidas as the victor of this battle.

“… Rest your weary bones, King of Persia.”

* * *

Agrippina had her aliens surround her so they could stand between her and Spartacus. She glared in revulsion at the pale-skinned brute who dared to challenge her.

“So you’re Spartacus, the fool who gathered so many slaves to challenge my ancestors,” she muttered. “I never thought I would meet someone as ignorant as you, nor have I ever wanted to. The very notion of serfs conquering the elite makes me sick.”

“Then puke to your heart’s content! Nothing you say or do will change my plight for the unfortunate! By the way, you’d be doing me a favor if you upchucked your innards as well, but I’m sure that’s asking for too much of an oppressor,” Spartacus retorted with his broad grin, completely unfazed by her insults.

“How disgusting. You know it is the law of the world for those descended from divinity to claim rulership over the rest. If an uneducated ogre like you can’t understand something so simple, then be gone from my sight immediately!” Agrippina shouted.

“Never! I shall stand strong and fight against such oppressive logic for as long as I draw breath! You have forgotten the love that your founding father had for his country, scheming petty schemes in paranoia of losing your self-claimed power! Not even your own family was exempt from your demonic stratagems to extrapolate your ego! I will show you the love and respect a true ruler should have for their kingdom, sovereign of immorality! Otherwise, you are just a common variety tyrant who must die!”

“I don’t need any kind of love and respect from a fanatical barbarian who failed to make any difference in my Roman Empire’s glorious history! Your uprising was pointless then, and it is now! Roma America will prevail, and my legend will be immortalized!”

“Heh hah hah hah! Here I come!” Spartacus declared with a hearty laugh as he scoffed at Agrippina’s desires. “If you love your imaginary country so much, then show me your worst, she-devil!”

“Damn you! Go, aliens! Crush that lump of muscle without remorse!”

He ran straight for the mob of creatures and, as he had been doing virtually the entire time he had been summoned here, he plowed through them with a ferocious battle cry, proceeding to slaughter them several at a time with mighty swings of his blunt sword. However, this time was different. While he was busy with the monsters, he still had Agrippina in the rear preparing to throw more poisonous knives at him. Of course, Spartacus was a man who only followed one strategy; break through enemy lines to reach the oppressor.

Agrippina conjured more knives in the air, which were covered in a sickening aura of purple, green and red. There was so much poison coating the blades that it dripped off the tips like venom out of a snake’s fangs. She let them fly at Spartacus while he was preoccupied, skewering him numerous times until he resembled a living cactus. The toxins coursed their way through his veins, making him feel dizzy.

“Oooh! What is this ecstasy!?” he crooned in muddled joy. “It is as if my entire body is on fire!”

“Do you like it?” she chuckled. “This is a special formula brewed just for you. It can kill an elephant in seconds, never mind a simpleton like you.”

“Oh, ho ho ho ho! Amazing! I’ve never felt such wonderful pain before!”

The poisonous daggers only agitated him further as he plowed through the surprised aliens and charged toward Agrippina. She knew about his fabled stamina, but she was still appalled by his inhuman tenacity as he lunged for her. The empress cursed under her breath and used basic magic to float above him before he could tackle her down. Normally her toxins would make her victims go mad, but she couldn’t rely on that here; Spartacus was already a master of his own insanity. There was no way she could predict what he was going to do, especially what would happen in the next few moments.

Spartacus hunched down to concentrate all of his strength in his legs, then flew straight up at Agrippina. He must have cleared around 10 stories before finally reaching her to bash his body against hers.

“GYAAAAH!?” she screamed, plummeting back to the earth with a loud thud. She thought she broke something. She had no idea what was going on; she was so used to living a privileged life that things like combat and strategy were completely foreign to her.

Spartacus landed several meters away and laughed heartily at his fallen opponent. He taunted, “Is this the best that you can muster, oppressor!? What a joke! To think that a weak woman like you could have wrought so much destruction among Rome’s elite is absolutely laughable! Step outside your fancy halls and grand castles, and you are naught but an infant against the harsh reality of this world!”

 ** _“Shut… UP!”_** Agrippina scowled. She was tired of listening to his bantering and surrounded herself in a toxic mist that engulfed Spartacus as well. Her figure was obscured, so he wasn’t sure where to look for her. Then he felt several knives burrow through his flesh from different angles. Rather than try to track her movements in the nauseating fog however, he firmly stood his ground and allowed more of the blades to strike him.

“That’s it! More! More! MORE! Ah hah hah hah! Yes, I feel it!” he screamed in pleasure. Agrippina’s poison was trying to reach his organs, but he utilized his unique skill Honor of the Battered to naturally repair the damage and expel the venom as clear fluid alongside his blood. Spartacus also had the ability to convert his pain and despair into power, something like an absorption ability, until his massive body could no longer contain such energy. With each blade stuck into him, and every breath of the toxic mist he inhaled, he could feel an explosive force growing exponentially within his very core. His pale skin twitched to life and turned red in response to his desperation.

Agrippina was genuinely stupefied. Nothing she did against him would work. She had berated his legend, but now she was starting to understand where he got the strength and charisma to start a historical uprising. Her recognition of his abilities only infuriated her further, as she believed she was the most powerful woman in the world. Anyone else who tried to challenge her power and majesty were gnats that she had to crush, but this one was proving to be more of an immortal cockroach than a tiny insect.

“Here it comes… Here it comes! HERE IT COMES!” Spartacus shrieked, boldly spreading his arms as his writhing body glowed pure white. _“My love is going to explode! **CRYING WARMONGER!**_ ”

It didn’t matter where Agrippina was hiding behind the mist. Spartacus’ contained energy detonated in a full radius, dispersing the fog and sending her careening across the air like a cannonball. She barely even had a chance to scream before she was hit. The blast reached the incoming aliens and incinerated them into nothing. The deafening sound reached its pinnacle, then quieted down as the raw force lost its strength. Spartacus stood there, his eyes rolled completely back, as he gasped for air. Despite the amount of pain and poisoning he endured, he still had his trademark toothy smile emblazoned all across his face. There was only one thing he could say about it all:

“That… was _great!_ ”

* * *

Connla kept running without pause, gasping for breath as her lungs threatened to explode from exhaustion. She continued northward along Sheep Range until she got closer to the Area 51 section, then started to turn west. All the while, she constantly panned her eyes around to make sure she wouldn’t be caught in a surprise attack by Cuchulainn. Since the other three enemy Servants were busy fighting her partners, he would be the only one still unaccounted for. She couldn’t forget Moriarty’s warning either, about her father being on a mad hunt solely for her.

It took her a while to reach Area 51, but she still wasn’t really sure where the facility was. She couldn’t find anything like a building; only long strips of air field and copious amounts of fencing and signage.

_Damn it… What am I supposed to do now?_

Connla looked around to see if there was anything she could investigate. That was when the dusty shockwave from Leonidas and Xerxes’ battle reached her, and she covered her face to protect it from dirt particles. It took a few minutes for it to settle down, and she finally opened her eyes while wondering, _What in the world was that?_

She glanced in the general direction it came from and decided to go that way. However, she slid to a sudden stop when she saw movement from far away. It came from a single man with a hulking frame and a conspicuous spiked tail as he ran along the desert floor.

_Father!_

Cuchulainn must have had the same idea as her since his path would have converged with hers had she kept going. Connla found a large boulder nearby to hide behind, fortunate that he hadn’t spotted her yet. However, she wasn’t going to keep herself out of sight for her own safety. She feared that if he found one of the others, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill them while they were busy fighting their rivals. She readied her spear, steeled her nerves, and charged out to blindside him. As she got closer and closer to the armored man, his eyes shifted in her direction and his expression turned into one of abject surprise.

“What!?” he uttered moments before she passed in front of him and slashed his chest, causing blood to spray everywhere. Connla turned around while still in her forward momentum, having to skid across the ground backwards in a hunched pose before returning to fight him. Cuchulainn instinctively brandished Gae Bolg to block her heavy blows.

 _Her eyes…_ he thought while fighting. _There’s no zeal behind them._

He was a bit disoriented from her ambush, so he dropped his guard just enough for her to stab clean through his shoulder. He never thought she would be vicious enough to do such a thing unprovoked, so seeing her serene savagery really disconcerted him. He grabbed the pole just in front of his skewered flesh and forced it in place, preventing her from taking it out. He couldn’t retaliate like this, but at least he could keep her in a stalemate.

“Your ambience is different than last time,” he remarked, completely disregarding the pain in his upper arm. “Before, there was a fire burning within your soul. Now, as we fight once again, I sense a disturbing lack of passion behind your movements. I know your mother trained you to not show emotion to the enemy, but to go from yesterday’s shock and fear to today’s stoicism is not natural even for you. Where is that enthusiasm you showed me yesterday?”

To his astonishment, Connla muttered in a soft voice that sounded at least 10 years older than she was, “Why should you care how I feel?”

“… What?”

“I’ve fulfilling your dream, aren’t I? I’ve come back from the dead-”

She glared at him eye-to-eye.

“So that you can craft me into a weapon of your liking.”

* * *

AUTHOR’S NOTE

† - Roughly translates to, “Ahuramazda’s Army,” with Ahuramazda being the sole God of Zoroastrianism that Xerxes I worshipped and believed had his favor when invading the Greek city-states.


	15. Monster of Ulster

**FATE/LAOCH GAN FINSCEAL**

**“Hero Without Legend”**

**Chapter 15: Monster of Ulster**

Moriarty steeled his expression and readied Reichenbach to fire more shots at Sanson. The executioner bravely rushed through the barrage of missiles, slashing at any that directly got in his way and left them to explode behind him. He clashed his sword against the coffin several times, then jumped over in an arc while flipping about to get behind Moriarty. He anticipated this however and countered with his steel cane, which could double as a rapier-like weapon.

“Looks like our abilities are just about even,” Moriarty complimented Sanson. “Yet, it’s just not enough. What can a simple executioner do against an intellectual such as myself who possesses the firepower to take down an entire army?”

“Funny you should say that,” Sanson smirked. “For all the intellect you boast, you still couldn’t overcome Sherlock Holmes. No matter how much you brag about your greatness, there’s always someone better than you.”

“Hmph…” the gentleman narrowed his eyes. The Frenchman taunted him with a topic that easily exasperated him. For all the wit and power he possessed, there was still that _one_ weakness which his opponents could exploit, and Sanson knew how to utilize it fully. Moriarty glowered, “You’d best not pursue that line of discussion any further, lest you wish to be eradicated like your good friend Arash.”

“Then you shouldn’t deride my love for Marie Antoinette and her people any further, or else you will come to regret it as well.”

“I shall keep that in mind, lad. Less words, more violence.”

The two men dueled with their swords, preferring swiftness and elegance over power. Moriarty stabbed at Sanson’s face a few times and scraped his cheek, expelling some blood. He ignored it and swept in low to swing at Moriarty’s legs. He flipped over the blade and jabbed at his shoulder, but the unusual pauldrons Sanson wore guarded against the rapier. He turned his curved sword on its side so the angled crescent blade on the tip faced Moriarty’s neck like a guillotine, then stabbed as hard as he could. He just managed to tilt his head aside to avoid it.

“My goodness!” the gentleman laughed, unconcerned about the danger he just faced. “If that had been angled wrong, my death would have been a most painful one! I’m sure your conscience would not have been able to handle it!”

“Are you doubting my knowledge of the human body?” Sanson retorted. “My aim is always true, and that was no different.”

Moriarty jumped to make some distance between them. As an Archer, he really wasn’t so good with melee combat. Having to deal with an Assassin who had intimate knowledge of human anatomy and what wounds would cause painless fatalities didn’t help his cause either. He shifted his eyes aside, noticing that something was amiss in the horizon.

“Hmm… It would appear that the real spectacle is about to be underway,” Moriarty murmured and pushed his glasses up his nose. “As much as I would like to indulge your self-satisfying pursuit of morbid justice, my attention beckons me elsewhere. To this, I will say good day for the meantime.”

He got on Reichenbach and rode it as an impromptu vehicle across the desert.

 _“Wait!”_ Sanson shouted and took chase after him by foot. He realized that they were heading straight for Area 51, but he wasn’t sure what Moriarty insinuated as being interesting around here.

* * *

Connla kept struggling to pull her spear out of Cuchulainn’s shoulder. Even though she was fighting against a mere one-handed grip of his, she wasn’t strong enough to overcome him and reclaim her weapon. As he watched her, he ruminated on what she just said, and it brought upon an unexpected pang of sadness that he hadn’t felt in years.

_“Just a weapon?” That’s not it. Have you completely forgotten the promise?_

He reluctantly let go of her polearm, and she suddenly stumbled backwards from not expecting to pull it out so quickly. Blood flowed out of his upper arm, but it was nothing compared to the confusion he was feeling. He readied Gae Bolg and lunged at her while she was off-balance. She tilted her head aside to avoid having her forehead pierced, then grabbed his arm and used his own momentum to throw him back. While he tripped, she jumped and ricocheted off a bunch of rocks and fences, becoming a bullet that grazed and gouged his flesh from all directions without remorse.

He had trouble keeping up with her movements for a bit, but he instinctively figured out a pattern and faced her when she shot for his chest. He blocked her assault and she went flying over his head after her trajectory was suddenly broken. She landed on her back, and he immediately charged at her to stab Gae Bolg into the ground she was on. She desperately rolled aside, and he followed her with more violent prods, narrowly missing her body each time. She found a chance to get onto her hands and rammed her foot against his face with a mighty roundhouse kick. Then she stood back up and swung her spear at his eyes.

“Kh-!” Cuchulainn gasped and craned his head back at the last second. The blade made a deep gash on his cheek, but at least he managed to avoid going blind. He jumped back to give himself some distance, then exclaimed, “Fool! Just what sort of twisted thinking has consumed you!? You know perfectly well that I never once saw you as a weapon!”

“If you didn’t, then where were you for my whole life!?” she retorted. “You abandoned me to be subjected to Mother’s abusive whims, without once trying to come back for me! The only symbol I had of you was a measly ring, and it did nothing to protect me from her hatred! Furthermore, I was the one who had to go through that arduous journey to see you again, all while you were enjoying the company of wife and friends! Then when I finally got to meet you, all you cared about was seeing how strong I was! What is that if not your wish to turn me into a mindless soldier of Ulster!? That’s what you’re after even now, isn’t it!?”

“No… That’s not why I’m doing this,” he objected weakly.

Connla gasped, feeling worn out from venting her emotions before calming down and muttering, “There’s no need to hide the truth anymore. I’ve already figured it out. After listening to everyone’s reactions about Mother’s treatment of me, I came to a conclusion; Mother, Teacher, and even you never loved me as a person. I was not put on this world to be a human blessed with nurturing mentors. I was a piece of iron forged through unforgiving heat and multiple strikes of the hammer until I became the head of a spear. Mother then took that spear and lunged it at your heart without remorse, but you countered and shattered that weapon into pieces. Now you’re trying to reclaim those pieces so you can be the one to forge them into a blade of your liking this time. In other words, you want to abuse me the same way Mother did!”

His eyes widened at her accusation. She pointed her leaf-bladed polearm at him. “I was looking for love when no one had any for me. I was never of any value as a person. So I will sever any connections I once had and subject them to the sharpness of the very blade they tempered. Once I destroy those crumbling foundations of my past, I can finally go back to sleep with satisfaction. For that reason, I will reduce you to nothing but an unrecognizable heap of blood and viscera, Father…”

For the first, and maybe last time in her life, a milder form of _riastrad_ took over Connla’s facial features.

“No, _Cuchulainn_!”

She charged at him with a feral cry, and they dueled once again. While he parried her numerous quick blows, he was coping with the devastation of hearing her misguided feelings about him. Now that he got to see what she looked like when possessed by the same battle spasms he was infamous for, he realized just how much it didn’t suit her whatsoever.

_I thought so. You look much better when you maintain your constant calmness._

Faced with no other choice, he too succumbed to _riastrad_ and glared at her with creased forehead and flared eyes. As she ran toward him again, he swung Gae Bolg about in a frenzy, slicing through rocks and ground with no effort. The earth exploded into pieces around her, but she twisted her body like a tornado to miss all of his slashes. Life seemed to move in slow motion as her spinning affected the air itself and generated a small whirlwind around her, boosting her forward momentum as she slammed against him. She kept bouncing and leaping about wildly, successfully getting in numerous swipes that scarred his skin and tore apart his armor. He didn’t have the strength nor the will to try and stop her.

Once Connla’s frenzy was over, she hunched forward and breathed heavily while admiring her handiwork. Cuchulainn remained standing, but looked exhausted as blood poured out of probably hundreds of small cuts. She too had sustained some injuries, but not as bad as his. He clenched his teeth, unsure of what to do next.

_I don’t want to exert my full strength on her when she doesn’t understand my motivation. She may have become deluded, but the power behind it is very real._

As they continued glaring at each other, that was when the stunned Agrippina flew through the sky after being blown away from Spartacus’ Noble Phantasm. Her path took her towards Connla’s battle, and she regained enough of her senses to recast her flight spell. Once she fully recovered from her stupor, she looked down at the pair with indignation.

_Cuchulainn, you bastard! You still haven’t killed the child!? If I can’t have Spartacus’ head, then at least I’ll take hers!_

Agrippina scowled, and her magic responded to her frustration by cloaking the sky around them in a curtain of sickly-colored fog, obscuring the empress from their view. It was reminiscent of how she, holding the honorary position of Augusta in ancient Rome, would sit behind a curtain while attending senate meetings – something which women were normally not allowed to do. It only served to amplify her cunning and secretive nature, and the poisonous mist she controlled symbolized the power she had ‘behind the scenes’.

Connla looked around in surprise and wondered, “What’s going on!?”

“Tch… You trying to butt in, harlot?” Cuchulainn grumbled.

Then dozens of bright flashes dotted the putrid fog as Agrippina called out the name of her Noble Phantasm:

 ** _“Venena Mater Augusta!”_** †

* * *

While Leonidas stood victorious over defeating Xerxes for good, Spartacus still wasn’t satisfied with sending Agrippina flying. He wanted to make sure the woman was dead, so he took chase after recovering from the immense pain his Crying Warmonger attack inflicted upon him. He came across Leonidas and exclaimed, “Oooh, there you are! What has become of that maniacal sovereign?”

“He has returned to the Throne,” was the simple reply.

“Well done! That is one small victory in our favor! Once I ensure the devil-woman’s demise, all that stands in our way will be that smug fellow and the black-armored demon! Hah hah hah hah! It’s as if we have already won!”

“Don’t get cocky, fool! We still have to help Sanson and the Little One before we can celebrate!”

“I know that! They should be at that 51 place right about now! Evil will not wait for itself to be destroyed, so let us tarry no longer!”

Spartacus and Leonidas ran towards the hidden facility, reaching the area at the same time Agrippina began to activate her strongest attack. Moriarty also came upon the scene in a cloud of dust, with Sanson trailing not too far behind. All of them could see the glints of light penetrating the opaque violet cloud. Connla remained focused on them, not realizing that they were actually the shining tips of numerous toxic knives that Arippina summoned.

Spartacus could see his rival’s weapons from his viewpoint. Although he still kept the same smile as usual, his eyes practically bugged out of their sockets in alarm as he realized the blades were aimed straight for Connla. He wanted to get there to rescue her, as he promised he would protect her if she was in danger, but he was too far away to make it in time. He shouted at the top of his lungs, **_“GET OUT OF THERE, LITTLE MISS!”_**

She heard his scream, but was too late to escape from the incoming flurry of blades that broke through the curtain of poison. She tried to get up and at least block them with her spear, but that was when the onslaught began. She reflexively squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the inevitable to happen. Hundreds of thin metal daggers began to whizz past her, emitting small whipping sounds that drowned out all other noises.

When the cacophony returned to silence, Connla finally mustered the courage to open her eyes. What she saw was something large completely blocking her view of Agrippina. She felt a pair of arms wrapped around her entire upper body, with one hand even tightly clutching her head. The figure in front of her loosened his grip and exhaled a mighty breath of exhaustion. Once she looked at her savior’s face, she let out a flabbergasted yelp.

“What the-!?” Sanson gasped. “Why is _he_ protecting her!?”

Spartacus and Agrippina were equally as surprised and stared at the scene in disbelief. Leonidas and Moriarty didn’t appear as astonished however. Indeed, it was none other than Cuchulainn who dashed in front of Connla at the last possible second and shielded her from the torrent of daggers. Dozens of small knives stuck through his skin and the toxins coursed through his veins, threatening to make him feel nauseous. He disregarded it all through sheer willpower and relinquished his hold on the uninjured Connla, standing between her and the furious Agrippina as an unexpected defender.

 _“What do you think you’re doing!?”_ the empress raged.

“What do you think?” he smirked.

“ ** _Why!?_** Why is that little brat so important to you, Cuchulainn!? _Just who the hell is she!?_ ”

“Keh heh heh… You still don’t get it? Fine, then. I shall indulge you with the truth before I destroy you. But really, a smart woman like you should have done her homework instead of expecting others to tell you about my history. Otherwise, you would have known that, however obscure the fact may be, I sired a child while I was training under my master. Do you see where I am going with this?”

“Im… _Impossible!_ Then that girl is-!”

“Cuchulainn’s daughter!?” Sanson exclaimed, glancing at the silent Connla.

“Whoa! That’s news to me!” Spartacus added. “I had no idea the guy had a kid!”

Leonidas calmly said, “It is true. She told me about it before we began this mission. The two of them have a… rocky relationship, at best.”

Agrippina realized that she was hopelessly outnumbered by not only the four heroes, but the detached Moriarty and a bloodthirsty Cuchulainn who just dropped a bombshell on her. She knew that since Leonidas was present, it meant that Xerxes had to have been slain, so she couldn’t hide behind him anymore. With no allies on her side, she scowled in despair and tried to fly away. Cuchulainn eagerly threw Gae Bolg like a javelin at Agrippina’s backside, striking her down and causing her to plummet.

“Ungh… Y-You traitor…” she seethed at him.

“Look at me care,” the Celtic warrior muttered with a homicidal grin. He snatched her dress and held her up high. “As a matter of fact, I am no traitor if I was never on your side to begin with. Do you think I would have summoned you and Xerxes to be a part of this story for the hell of it?”

“W-What are you talking about!?”

“Both of you were the catalysts I needed to create a crisis that threatened humanity. When the World feels that it is in danger, it will summon heroes to rise against such adversity, which is exactly what I needed for my wish to be partially fulfilled.”

“I don’t understand! _You_ summoned _me_!? _I_ acted according to _your_ plan!? Impossible! I am the supreme one, not a mindless brute like you!”

“You poor, poor egotistical creature. Shame for you that I no longer have to pretend to be subordinate to you, though it’s quite the relief for me. I can finally cast aside my mask of servitude and show you just how pathetic you really are, Agrippina. Take a good look at what I possess to make my goals reality.”

The tattoos on Cuchulainn’s chest shone deep red for a moment, then a strange black-and-red goblet appeared momentarily between them. The heroes were appalled to see the cup of miracles emanating from the man’s body, though Moriarty only sported a bemused smile. Agrippina couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“That’s… _the Holy Grail!?_ ” she screamed. “But it’s not the same one as in the facility! No, no, no, no, this can’t be right! Why are there _two_ Holy Grails in this world!?”

Cuchulainn chuckled wildly at Agrippina, absolutely delighted to see her despairing expression as she realized how powerless she really was. He wrapped his hand around her throat and squeezed so hard that her spine snapped, internally decapitating her. As if that wasn’t enough, he sunk his other hand through her chest and extracted her heart, then crushed it into bloody pieces in his grip. The dead empress’ form shone gold, and she disappeared without a trace.

While Connla stood there dumbfounded, Spartacus snatched her in his arms and took her to a safe distance from the psychotic Cuchulainn. She barely noticed him as she remained transfixed on her father’s gruesome killing. She had no idea what to believe anymore. She told him how much she despised him and everyone else in her previous life, yet he protected her anyway. If he really didn’t care about her happiness, he wouldn’t have shielded her from Agrippina’s Noble Phantasm. He was brutal and unforgiving to everyone else, yet surprisingly gracious to her. It didn’t make sense anymore. She was lost in a daze of ambiguity, trying to parse just what the hell was going on.

_Just what is it you’re after, Father?_

“Hey, missy!” Spartacus exclaimed and gently smacked her cheek, trying to get her attention. “Get yourself together! The rebellion is not over yet!”

“Uh…?”

“Even if that monstrosity is the man who gave birth to you, it does not change the fact that he is an oppressor! We have to stand strong and take him down together!”

“But… why is he… doing all of this…?”

“Does it matter anymore!? We have to put him and that bespectacled villain back in their place, or else this world will be an arena for their vile whims!”

“Hmph!” Cuchulainn scoffed when he heard Spartacus’ words. “Stand aside, Thracian. I want to talk to my daughter without hindrance.”

“Never! I won’t let you lay a finger on the little miss anymore, fiend!” the gladiator shouted defiantly, holding Connla close to him. “I don’t care if you’re the man who sired her! I said I would protect her if she ever felt weak, and now is that time! The only thing that brings me greater pleasure than destroying oppressors is defending the innocent!”

“Your platitudes are getting old, barbarian. Get out of my sight, or I’ll destroy you.”

Cuchulainn mentally commanded his spear to return to his hand, and he aimed it at Spartacus in a throwing position. The tension was incredibly thick as everyone waited for something to happen. However, Cuchulainn couldn’t bring himself to hurl Gae Bolg. Even though he wanted to get rid of Spartacus, he also risked skewering Connla in the process.

“Father,” she murmured with a grief-stricken expression. “Please tell me what’s going on. If I’m wrong about your intentions, then what is it that you really want? I don’t understand what’s happening anymore.”

The Holy Grail inside him ebbed to life like a second beating heart, and he pressed his hand against his chest to dull the pain. His wounds started to close themselves, but then small black scales crept out and covered his skin. The poison from Agrippina’s swords leeched itself out, and he let out a howl of agony as his body underwent a diabolical metamorphosis right before their eyes.

 ** _“FATHER!”_** Connla screamed and reached out for him.

“No! Stay back!” Spartacus urged, holding her back tighter than before. “That man is no longer your flesh and blood! He has become a demon!”

Leonidas and Sanson ran in front of them to further guard her from whatever was happening to Cuchulainn. After about a minute of disgusting sounds and horrible screams passed, he gasped for air while staring at Connla. A large red horn broke through his forehead and grew like a spiked tumor, giving him the worst migraine in the world. Even though the Holy Grail was rapidly mutating him into something inhuman, he still managed to utter, “Y-You’re wrong, Connla! I did not bring you back just to be a soulless weapon! You may think that I see no value in you as a human…”

He faced her, and his expression appeared so sad that it was disconcerting to everyone present. Gradually, that face was buried beneath a familiar black helmet that encroached his head.

“But that’s not true at all! Not once did a day go by where I thought about the things you and I could have accomplished - not just as warriors, but as humans on this planet! You remember your dying words, don’t you? That you and I could have carried the flag of Ulster to Rome and beyond?”

“Yes…” she moaned.

“I hoped you would return as a Servant alongside me so we could see those possibilities comes true. Yet future generations celebrated me as the most legendary Celtic hero, while completely ignoring you because you did nothing other than lose against me in a pointless fight. That made you ineligible to be recorded on the Throne of Heroes.”

“…”

“You know the principle behind the Throne, don’t you? We Heroic Spirits exist precisely because our feats are memorable. No matter if our struggles wind up being futile in the end, as long as people remember us, then we will live on as stories etched upon the Throne for all eternity. The messages we pass along will survive as timeless tales in the hearts of generations to come. However…”

Cuchulainn grit his sharpening teeth and widened his eyes in fury. _Riastrad_ didn’t even begin to describe how hideous he looked right now.

“What if a hero were to fade into obscurity, never to ascend to the Throne!? Were their deeds not worth remembering!? Who decides who is worthy of remembrance!? What feats would a hero truly have to accomplish to remain in humanity’s heart!? I had thought about it for a long time, but it was when you discovered your Noble Phantasm that I realized the sickening truth. Those millions of tiny lights that converged upon your spear were all heroes forgotten by humanity! In that moment, you became the representative of the faceless ones who served this rotten planet with no gratitude in return, _who are as countless as the stars themselves!_ ”

“F-Father…” Connla whimpered, but she couldn’t stop his angered voice from reaching a crescendo.

 _“Don’t you see what this means!? **Even ordinary people can become heroes, and yet humans do little more than relegate them as mere footnotes in history, if even that!**_ ”

Upon venting his true feelings, he lost the fervor in his expression and returned to his cold persona.

“I won’t allow it. If humans have the power to erase true heroes by deciding that their existence has no merit, while praising monsters like myself as champions for our unspeakable acts, then I will destroy them in turn. No one should possess such a terrifying power. Since they don’t understand how powerful it is, I will show them the despair of obscurity. Their cries for remembrance will go unheard by the heavens that they so desperately pray to. I will be the one to send them to the void for condemning you – no, all of those unsung heroes - to be merely a glossed over aspect of humanity’s history.”

He fixed his hidden gaze upon Connla’s shocked face. The transformation into his corrupted Curruid Coinchenn Noble Phantasm was complete, but this time the black skeleton remained permanently affixed to his body, having merged with his flesh. Cuchulainn – or rather, the new fiend that he had become – surpassed his role as a Berserker and took on the status of a much rarer class of Servant, having gained a new power through the strange Holy Grail and the demonic husk that turned him into a manifestation of hatred and darkness.

“I am your Avenger. I am the Monster of Ulster, Curruid.”

Connla’s dire expression of horror and heartbreak told everyone how she felt about her father’s grim metamorphosis and insane ideal. She covered her mouth to fight back the tears, but a single droplet escaped and rolled down her cheek. She visibly shuddered and her throat choked up, preventing her from saying anything to him. The stoicism she tried so hard to hide behind crumbled, and her worst traumas were forced to the surface.

 ** _“MADNESS!”_** Leonidas screamed. “Just pure, unadulterated _madness!_ There is no love or honor in any of this! I know she’s not that kind of person who would ask anyone to avenge her! All you’re doing is bringing further pain to her by dragging her out of the abyss and subjecting her to absolute torture!”

“Maybe I am…” Curruid murmured darkly. “But I have come too far to turn back. If I want the rest of my wish to come true, she will have to stop me with her own power. Just a word of warning though; if you all seek to challenge me for this world’s sake, then it is prudent that I make you understand just how much mana I have at my disposal.”

He raised his massively clawed arm up and conjured an orb of pure darkness upon it. He stared blankly at the group as the dark magic grew larger with each second.

“Oh dear,” Moriarty whispered to himself as he got back on Reichenbach and sped away. “I’d best make myself scarce.”

Curruid gathered enough energy, then directed it at the astonished quartet of heroes and murmured only three words:

 **“Muir Deamhan Béic.”** ††

* * *

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

† - “Poisonous Mother Augusta,” with _Augusta_ being the title Agrippina held that gave her tremendous influence and power.

†† - “Sea Demon’s Cry”


	16. Fragmented Resolve

**FATE/LAOCH GAN FINSCEAL**

**“Hero Without Legend”**

**Chapter 16: Fragmented Resolve**

An unusually cool breeze stirred Connla from her deep slumber.

Her eyes gradually cracked open, but not a lot of light hit her weary pupils. Her head felt like a ton of bricks, so she took her time getting back up to avoid suffering a massive headache. She found herself on the outskirts of Yucca Flat near Sheep Range, which was nowhere near where she was the last time she was awake.

_What am I doing here?_

The chilly wind hit her again, and she shivered. She found it odd that it had suddenly become as cold as a winter day when it was the middle of summer in one of the hottest places on Earth. She was in such a stupor from the weather that it took her a while to register what she had just gone through before losing consciousness.

_That’s right… I fought Father, and then…_

The awful memory of Cuchulainn’s mutation into Curruid resurfaced, and his words paralyzed her with instantaneous pangs of fear.

_Oh my god!_

Her shuddering helped her fight the cold at least, but it did nothing to settle her anxiety. She looked up at the sky and gasped in another bout of horror. While a faint trace of bright blue could be seen in the distance, the sky had blackened so badly that everything was navy blue dotted with dark clouds. Even tiny bits of snow fluttered around her.

“Wha-!?” she uttered, completely at a loss for words.

“Oh, she’s finally up!”

Connla looked to the side to find her three partners running toward her. Spartacus was the one who let out that exclamation, and he leaned over her while asking, “How are you doing?”

“How am I…? What are you talking about?”

Sanson kneeled next to her and healed a cut that had reopened on her forehead. “Take it easy. All of us are in bad shape, but you took the worst of it.”

“The worst… of what?”

“Oh, I see. You must have blacked out before it happened. I suppose it was fortunate for you – with your body being limp, you didn’t sustain as terrible injuries as if you were awake.”

He pointed behind her, and she looked back at Area 51 as he explained, “Cuchulainn used a new Noble Phantasm on us, and it blew us a great distance away. This is the third whole day since that encounter, but we awakened earlier than you, and have been on patrol ever since.”

Connla was absolutely astonished to see what had become of the facility. What was once a barren desert obscuring the top-secret building’s true location had now become a crystalline marvel. Deep blue ice spiked and jutted everywhere several hundred meters above the surface, and the ground was covered in a thick layer of frozen water. The snowfall was more concentrated in that area as well. More disturbing was that there seemed to be a faint red glow beneath the ice that suggested something more sinister was coagulating beneath it.

_That’s… the result of… Father’s Noble Phantasm!?_

She lost her mind. Clutching her head in sheer fright, she scrambled to her feet and suddenly fled from the area towards the heights of Sheep Range.

“Hey, where are you going!?” Spartacus exclaimed.

Leonidas grabbed his shoulder and said, “Wait. She needs some time to herself.”

“Are you kidding!? The enemy is still nearby! This is no time for her to be consumed by shock!”

“We have not seen signs of movement over the last while. I think it’s safe to give her this time to come to terms with what has happened.”

“Maybe… She certainly is in a very weakened state. I said I would protect her if she felt weak for a moment, but this is too much for me to deal with. If left alone like this, she may never escape the oppressive clutches of her own terror. We cannot afford to bring her with us if she is unable to contribute to the rebellion any longer.”

“She is certainly shaken,” Sanson murmured. “Perhaps I should speak with her.”

“No, lad,” Leonidas stopped him. “I will do something. I fear that if you tried to console her, you will only make it worse with your grim spiels of death.”

“Even if that may be the case, she would not be in the mood for training as you always insist upon.”

“I am not so unreasonable as to expect chivalry from someone when they are in that state. I will find a way to make her understand what she needs to do.”

“I see. Very well. I will take Spartacus with me to patrol the area again.”

Sanson and Spartacus left, while Leonidas followed Connla up the mountain. It took him some time, but he eventually found the dismayed girl sitting under a shady boulder clenching her arms and shivering. Her eyes were wide with fear, and her pallor was deathly pale. She didn’t look up at him as he kneeled next to her and asked, “How are you faring?”

“I… don’t know…”

“Still your heart, child. Panic will not achieve anything.”

“I can’t help it! It’s my fault that Father has become so hideous! It’s just like that dream I had!”

“Dream?”

She told him about the vivid nightmare she had back in Las Vegas of Cuchulainn falling from the bloody Grail and transforming into a sea monster that dove into the ocean to find her. When she finished, she chuckled weakly at herself and moaned, “How pathetic of me. Mother and Teacher would laugh if they saw me like this…”

“Well I do not see the humor in your petrified state,” Leonidas grumbled. “If you are to ask me, you should cherish that emotion and rely upon the power it gives you to fight for your survival.”

Connla looked up at him curiously. “Are you saying… you’ve felt like this too?”

“Every warrior has. If not, then they are either pure evil or a walking corpse. Those who are made of flesh and blood are no doubt controlled by the fear of being overwhelmed by a force much greater than theirs. Yet it is that same fear that gives them courage to face such odds. Whether or not they succeed is entirely up to destiny. Yes, just as I gave my life in the Battle of Thermopylae – a force of 300 against 100,000 is no doubt the definition of insurmountable odds, yet I did not allow those facts to sway me. I was scared for my life, knowing that I would not return home to Sparta alive, but I feared for the sanctity of my beloved nation even more than that.”

“…”

“I know the pangs of anxiety all too well, Little One,” Leonidas nodded and placed his hand on her shoulder. “But you must not let it conquer you! You must learn to let it empower you!”

“B-But the enemy is my father… If we can even call him that anymore…”

“You are no stranger to fighting your own family in a fierce duel.”

“If he was the normal Cuchulainn, I could face him without any problems. But he’s become that… _thing_ now! Someone who can cover an entire area in ice with just a simple Noble Phantasm! I can’t imagine what he is truly capable of since he’s bound to that strange Holy Grail!”

The Spartan didn’t want to think of it either. She continued ranting, “He said he’s causing all of this destruction for me! He’s putting this whole world in jeopardy because of me! If I can’t live up to his expectations, everyone will die! Millions… No, _billions_ of innocent people…!”

Connla bit her shuddering lip, looking to be on the verge of crying. “Father… must hate me so much…”

“Nonsense!” Leonidas snapped. “Complete, utter nonsense! That man may have become a foul creature, but there is no such possibility of him hating you!”

“How can you say that for certain!? Just as Mother put these geasa on me and turned me into her tool of vengeance, Father has now declared himself my enemy because I was too weak for humanity to remember me! How are both of those things not acts of hatred against me!?”

“You are wrong. When I gazed upon that man’s eyes, the disgust and revulsion he harbored within them were not aimed at you whatsoever. As he looked upon you while falling into the darkness, I could sense that he felt nothing but immense pride for you.”

_“Pride!?”_ Connla gasped, wanting to laugh at such a preposterous notion. “Why would he be proud of me!? I haven’t done anything worth his praise! If he doesn’t despise me, then who does he really detest!?”

Leonidas sighed and sat next to her. With a guttural growl, he whispered, “I believe he hates himself.”

She looked at him in complete surprise. “Him… self?”

“If I were in his position, I would ask myself so many questions about you. Over and over again, I would be calling myself a fool for destroying the potential you had as a hero. I would endlessly wonder, ‘Why did I have to survive while my only child was murdered by my hands? Why did I not realize her identity during our battle? What miracles of combat would we have accomplished together?’ Such questions would circulate in my mind like poison, festering my spirit more and more with ages upon ages worth of self-reproach.”

“But, it was all because of the geasa that Mother put on me.”

“That is no longer a factor when such immense guilt is involved.”

“You think so?”

“Aye. Cuchulainn may not have been a man of many regrets, but I believe your death was one he shielded from the world for a long time. Those thoughts must have transformed into a secret wish of seeing you partake your own adventures as a fellow Servant in the Holy Grail Wars. But while he was always summoned, you never appeared. That must have frustrated him so much. In his mind, not only did he end your life, he also condemned you to fade out of the minds of the people in favor of summoning his strength for battle. Cuchulainn indeed loathes humanity for not remembering you, but if that really was true, wouldn’t he have perverted other humans into becoming monsters rather than just himself?”

Connla froze. She couldn’t deny what Leonidas was saying. The sight of Cuchulainn’s humanity disappearing beneath the layers of grotesque black and red armor remained fresh in her mind. For all the scorn and enmity he emanated, he only really turned the darkness upon himself as a wish to ‘become Connla’s greatest opponent to overcome’. No one else was affected by the corrosion that consumed him.

“Father…” she murmured under her breath. “That’s just too sad…”

“You may be afraid for your life, but your fears for your father’s decaying sanity are even greater.”

“Yes. I don’t want him to suffer anymore because of my fate.”

“Then you know what you must do.”

She looked up at Leonidas, and he nodded with a soft smile. She sighed, feeling exhausted from the adrenaline of anxiety rushing out of her head all at once. She murmured, “I’m definitely scared… But I want to pull him out of that darkness before it consumes him. I think that’s what I was summoned here for.”

“Splendid. I knew you would find your resolve soon enough.”

He rubbed her head and said, “You are greatly fatigued. Get some rest for the night. We shall see to training and strategizing for our upcoming battles first thing in the morn.”

“But Mr. Sanson said it’s been three days. Is it really okay for me to sleep one more evening?”

“It should be fine. I know not what Cuchulainn and Moriarty are up to, but they seem to be granting us a reprieve so that we are ready to face them all full strength.”

“Hm… Father would be the type to do that.”

With a reluctant nod, she leaned against the boulder and closed her eyes.

* * *

Inside the deepest depths of Area 51 was a laboratory covering the span of several football fields hundreds of meters beneath the earth. Unlike the rest of the facility that was devoted to developing, testing and refining technology that humans themselves discovered, this lab served to study the aliens that the American government kept in captivity. Not only was the creatures’ biology heavily studied upon, they had been attached to machines that recorded brain waves in the hopes of extracting any scrap of alien knowledge they possessed. All along the walls were nothing but large glass canisters housing hundreds of sleeping aliens suspended in some strange fluid. Their collective aqua glow surrounded the otherwise dark laboratory with an eerie ambience that was not of this world.

Along with countless desks and research stations strewn about the area, the absolute center of the room housed an embellished altar that did not match the monotone, futuristic look of the place. Upon this ancient gold pedestal was the Holy Grail – that was, the real one that belonged to this world. Considered to be lost to civilization, it was actually in America’s possession for as long as the aliens had been. With all of these tools housed within the forbidden storehouse that was Area 51, it gave America plenty of leverage over the world’s nations in this divergent timeline.

However, none of that mattered to Curruid. All he cared about was feeding frigid blue energy from the Noble Phantasm brewing within his body into the Holy Grail. This reduced the lab’s temperature by several degrees over the next few hours until it was the life-sized equivalent of a walk-in freezer. Anyone who was not a Servant or not properly dressed would be frozen alive in only a matter of minutes. This was how Moriarty was able to stand next to Curruid and observe the transfer of energy without ill effect.

“Hoh hoh! What a magnificent aura,” he chuckled and fixed his glasses. “With such power being drawn into this place, it won’t be long before human life ceases to be.”

Curruid remained silent and expressionless. He continued focusing his Noble Phantasm, being endlessly generated by the False Holy Grail inside him, into the True Holy Grail that was connected to Area 51 itself. The underground facility went much, _much_ deeper into the earth than anyone could have imagined. Charging the building and surrounding earth with sub-zero energy and letting it explode as the arctic equivalent of a doomsday bomb would definitely freeze all of North and South America beneath permanent ice and snow.

The oceans and island countries would most likely be frozen solid, and pandemonium would ensue in the remaining continents as the nation’s leaders pointed fingers at each other over who was responsible for such flagrant destruction. Cold air would kill off wildlife that relied on the warm weather for survival. Humanity would immediately return to the Stone Age, and would fall apart once it realized it lost their basic survival skills in favor of relying on modern conveniences. If _homo sapiens_ didn’t go extinct, their numbers would be reduced by billions in just a few short years.

“My bones shiver in anticipation. Or perhaps I am too old to cope with such a chilly countenance as yours,” the Englishman murmured bitterly.

Curruid shifted his eyes over and grumbled, “Where are the four Servants?”

“The young lady has only awoken just now, and apparently fled in a fit of panic.”

“I see…”

“Knowing the three curses she bears though, she will not truly run away from this battle. She is not allowed to ‘turn back from her journey’, as you are painfully aware.”

The Avenger said nothing.

“Even so, my very soul itches to get these arctic festivities underway,” Moriarty continued rambling. “I can see it now; the very breakdown of every surviving government as they blame each other for this tragedy. Overwhelmed by the loss of ‘the most powerful nation in the world’, the world’s elite will find themselves eager to push those large red buttons that shall spell nuclear Armageddon for the rest of humanity. Imagine that! Destroyed by ice on one half, and fire on the other! It’s so _poetic!_ ”

“Will you shut up already?” Curruid snapped. “Remember, this is nothing more than my contingency should my wish not come true. You have no say in whether or not I destroy the Western Hemisphere.”

“Oh, my, my, my! It seems I allowed my craving for utter destruction to carry me away into flights of fancy. It’s just that I have never been so close to seeing the end of the world become reality. Alas, ‘tis not a destruction of my own choosing. All of this hinges on how well the child can overcome you.”

“Don’t forget your promise.”

“I know perfectly well. I shall leave her unharmed so that she may battle you at her strongest. The other three are fair enough game for this old man to hunt down.”

“If you disobey me, I will make sure your smug face never gets to see the light of day again.”

“Erasing me from the Throne of Heroes? Oh, how frightening. Then again, perhaps the same would be true of all heroes should the time come for you to destroy humanity. No one would be left alive to remember them, after all!”

“Hmph.”

“Well, I think I shall excuse myself,” Moriarty said. “You still need plenty of time to finish before you are ready. Our heroes don’t appear to be in the mood to stop us for today, so I will relax for one more day. Nothing like a glass of fine wine and some classical music to set the mood before our grand showdown.”

After he finally finished prattling, the flamboyant gentleman left Curruid alone to his thoughts. He concentrated his hatred for humanity upon the cold air he transferred. True, he did want everyone to understand the terror of being forgotten. But deep down, he actually wanted this plan to fail. As Moriarty said, it all came down to whether or not Connla could put an end to it all. Hearing the news that she fled in panic wasn’t too surprising to him, but he still felt upset all the same. He couldn’t blame her though; the Blackening he underwent right in front of her must have traumatized such a young, sensitive mind.

_I know you’re better than that. Get back up and fight me with the conviction of a hero. Otherwise, you will have plenty of company in the realm of obscurity._

* * *

Connla greeted the next day with an exhausted yawn and stretch. She was still really tired, but she told herself to stop lying around and prepare for the final battle. She could work off the grogginess with some exercise.

_I’ll have plenty of time to sleep once this is all over,_ she said to herself. She found Leonidas nearby as he tried lifting up rocks that were clearly too heavy for him. He chucked them aside once he saw her, stretched his arms, then said, “Looks like you are ready, Little One.”

“Ready for what?”

“Mental training.”

“Hm?”

“While I have no qualms with your skills as a warrior, it is your spirit that needs strengthening. That creature’s words shattered your will into tiny fragments. Our conversation yesterday was only the first step towards your recovery, but I still need to gather those pieces and forge you into a mighty Lancer worthy of slaying our greatest foe.”

“But our enemy is… He’s Cuchulainn… Or rather…” Connla uttered, then gasped. She couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“I understand. You need not say more. I shall address him as Curruid henceforth, for it is the moniker he gave himself as a vengeful beast. However, I know your heart is more indomitable than that. In your legend, you faced your father knowing it would lead to your death. You were an ordinary girl facing a true hero, and yet you stood on equal grounds with him. If it were not for Gae Bolg, why I believe that battle would have become akin to a Sword vs. Shield paradox. It would sadden me to see such courage go to waste in the face of needless fear.

“Now is the time for you to rise once again, daughter of Cuchulainn. If Curruid seeks to be the Sword that rends our beloved Earth asunder, then you must become the Shield that protects it. I know now why I have been summoned to this battle; to be the one who tempers your Shield so that it may stand against such might.”

“B-But I don’t know if I’m qualified for such a task… If only Teacher or Lord Fergus were here, they’d have a much better chance…”

“Foolishness. There is no point in seeking help from those who are not present,” Leonidas said. “You are the only one of us who is familiar with that man’s combat style. We need your skills now more than ever, if not for us, then for the sake of this world’s future. Do not doubt yourself. The World acknowledged you as Curruid’s counterpart and summoned you to face him. You should be proud to partake in such a pivotal battle when your legend prevented you from doing so.”

He got into his battle stance and declared, “Now, then! You must have a lot of pent-up energy that is just waiting to be released! Since the enemy has been disturbingly quiet these last few days, I will take it upon myself to be the foe you need to unleash your contained stress!”

“A training session?” Connla asked as she readied her weapon.

“Think of it as a venting session instead. Come at me with all of your frustration and grief, so that you may alleviate your spirit of all that constrains you!”

“Okay!”

They stood in their combat stances for a few moments, then rushed at each other to clash their spears. This wouldn’t be a serious battle with their lives on the line, but he still wanted to push her enough to work out all of the fear she had built up. It served as good exercise as well, since she could feel the worst of her anxiety flow through her arms, into her hands, and through the spear to help her counter Leonidas’ strikes. Although her heart constantly felt heavy, at least her limbs were free and limber enough to let her twist and bend around his weapon without much trouble.

After about half an hour, they ceased the duel and sat down. Connla sighed and murmured, “I think I got the worst of it out. I should be able to fight better now.”

“Splendid. Sometimes when you have grandiose things like the fates of the world and humanity thrust upon your lap, nothing settles our warrior minds more than a harmless contest,” the Spartan said.

“I guess. But it’s kind of odd for me, in a way.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know. It’s kind of like… It’s hard for me to think of this world’s future when I barely even had a chance to see my own future come to fruition… Or something to that effect,” she murmured, unsure of what she was talking about.

“Hm… Perhaps it is too broad of a concept for your young mind to grasp just yet.”

Leonidas appeared to ponder about something. Connla tilted her head curiously, wondering what the Spartan was thinking. After a moment, he declared, “Perhaps it is best for you to just think about saving that man.”

“Just Father? But what about the rest of the world?”

“Attempting to rest such a tremendous burden upon your small shoulders would only break you further. After all, if you were to fail, at least no one would be able to blame you.”

Connla couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her shocked face told him everything, and he uttered, “I’m not trying to be cruel here. It’s just that you should focus on saving what you believe is most important to you. Salvaging Cuchulainn’s sanity is a greater priority than the fate of many people you will never meet. Think of saving this world as a secondary reward for your efforts.”

“A secondary reward…” she murmured. “It sounds awful in principle, yet…”

“It’s realistic. No single person should be responsible for the world’s safety at all times.”

“Yeah. I guess that’s why many eras and countries have heroes of their own – there’s no such thing as an omnipotent hero who encompasses all spans of time.”

“That’s right.”

The pressure on Connla’s heart started to lift further. No one was really forcing her to do everything by herself. Leonidas simply wanted her to devote her energy towards facing Cuchulainn’s darkness, rather than fearing what would happen if she didn’t succeed.

_In a manner of speaking… If Father wants to be ‘my avenger’, then I’ll have to do my utmost to be ‘his savior’._

“Well then!” the Spartan exclaimed. “I believe the others are due to return at any moment!”

They got up and waited for Spartacus and Sanson to come back. They reconvened at the base of Sheep Range, and Connla said to them, “I’m sorry for my behavior. I really shouldn’t have run off like that when we have more pressing matters on hand.”

“Say no more,” Spartacus said, his broad grin ever unchanging. “Such a sincere apology should only be said once. Any further than that, and you will just be making excuses.”

“Indeed. No one will find fault with you trying to sort out your confusion,” Sanson added. “So long as you found yourself in the end, I am satisfied.”

“Yes, I’m okay now,” she replied. “So then, what about your patrol? Did you find anything?”

“Still no enemy movement, though we did notice something quite disturbing with that unnatural glacier covering Area 51.”

“Hmm!” Spartacus hummed with agitation despite his huge smile. “I thought it only a villainous deception upon my eyes, but upon closer inspection of that strange crystal, it appeared to me that it has actually grown in size. Not only that, but the ground beneath our feet became much too frigid to traverse without risk of freezing alive from the bottom up! Something sinister is manifesting beneath the sanctity of that arctic structure, and it expands exponentially with each passing moment!”

Connla sighed despondently and said, “Father must be doing something with his Noble Phantasm. With two Holy Grails at his command, it shouldn’t be surprising that he’d be capable of this.”

“Just what on Earth does he hope to accomplish with so much arctic energy?” Sanson wondered.

Leonidas grumbled, “Nothing good, that is for certain! If we dawdle here any longer, it may become a force that we will be unable to overcome!”

“Yes. We must move quickly. Not only must we worry about Cuchulainn, but I still need to have Moriarty submit to his death sentence.”

The four heroes stood side-by-side as they faced the ominous freezing crystal, knowing that this would be the location of their final battle. They were lucky to only have lost Arash during their journey, and that was by his own doing. It was only a matter of time before they would begin to suffer real casualties on their end. They weren’t afraid of dying though. This place was where they would realize one of two fates; either die valiantly and return to the Throne in victory, or fail to stop Curruid and become part of obscurity, never to be remembered again.

Leonidas smacked the butt of his spear upon the cold dirt, then broke the silence by firmly asking, “Are we ready?”

“Yes,” Sanson said.

“Anytime you are!” Spartacus exclaimed.

Leonidas glanced at Connla, and she gave him a simple nod. He turned towards the ice-covered Area 51, then pointed his weapon forth and declared, “Then let us commence our final charge!”


	17. Divergence of History

**FATE/LAOCH GAN FINSCEAL**

**“Hero Without Legend”**

**Chapter 17: Divergence of History**

Moriarty sat upon one of the high-rise ice spikes jutting from the ground, observing the scenery while sipping on a glass of wine. His mood wasn’t any different from when he was planning his next scheme for underworld domination – elegant, yet dark-spirited. Yet, he wasn’t planning anything in this moment. He was merely waiting. The wine served to keep his impatience in check, but there was only so much alcohol left to sate him.

After another sip, he looked down and noticed movement in the corner of his eye. His eyes were fixated upon the four heroes as they walked gallantly towards Area 51. He couldn’t resist thinking of how artistic the scene looked. Two Lancers, an Assassin, and a Berserker were the world’s only bastions against the end of humanity as they knew it. However radically different their origins were, here they stood as one unit, prepared to risk their lives for everyone else’s futures. They saw Moriarty from his perch and stopped before the glacial structure.

“You’ve kept me waiting,” the gentleman told them, then leapt off the ice and fell upon the ground with style. “I was beginning to think you had lost your nerve after witnessing our friend’s Anti-Continental Noble Phantasm.”

“Anti-Continental?” Connla murmured in a low tone. “I thought it was Anti-Army…”

“The one he used against you was certainly Anti-Army, but he has had four whole days to build enough power to wipe out this entire Western Hemisphere. Hoh hoh! I can hardly wait!”

“So that was the oppressive energy I felt brewing within that icy prison!” Spartacus exclaimed. “Then there is no time for words! If you intend to stand in our way, then we shall gladly force you aside!”

“But of course,” Moriarty adjusted his glasses. “I have every intention of being an obstacle… That is, except against the young lady.”

“Me?” Connla asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Behold.”

He gestured toward the ice and snapped his fingers. It shattered into pieces upon his mental command to reveal a set of doors leading to Area 51’s lower bunkers. He explained, “Your father waits for you in the lowest level, where this country’s most secret research was being done. I have express orders only to allow you inside.”

She wasn’t so sure about what he was saying. It could be a trick to get her to lower her guard. Sanson uttered, “Do you seriously think she’d fall for such a blatant ploy?”

“I seriously do, my dear executioner. Our dear Avenger is not in the mood to have his family reunion interrupted again, so he is granting this privilege only to the child. Area 51 is the arena where they shall settle their differences once and for all. If any of us rabble were to barge in on him, he will not hesitate to unleash his Noble Phantasm. Once he does that, this entire hemisphere will be trapped within an eternal Ice Age. Do you want to risk that in favor of satisfying your fleeting doubts?”

“Astounding,” Leonidas gasped beneath his breath. Normally they would not listen to a consummate liar such as Moriarty, but in this moment, all of them could take his threat at face value. Even the hardheaded Spartacus couldn’t fight back the chill of realizing just how insignificant he was against such a god-like force. The men had no choice but to rely on their young friend to defeat Curruid alone.

“You guys…” she murmured.

“It’s okay. I still have some unfinished business with this man,” Sanson said with a light smile, wielding his crescent-bladed sword. “I am glad we were allies in this endeavor. Go ahead and do what you need to do.”

Spartacus grinned. “We’ll hold the fort here for you! I won’t tell you to be careful! Do your worst, missy!”

“Okay,” she nodded at them, then glanced at Leonidas.

“It is as they say,” the Spartan agreed. “Don’t worry about saving the world. Just concentrate on saving your father’s soul.”

“I will.”

“Godspeed, Child of Cuchulainn. May victory smile upon you.”

“And to you as well, King of Sparta.”

Having said her farewells, Connla turned and hurried inside Area 51 by herself. Once she passed through, the pair of huge steel doors slammed shut with a powerful bang. Moriarty watched her depart with a stoic expression. Truth be told, he wasn’t entirely keen on letting such a small child fight a brutal battle by herself. He would have been happy to converse with the ‘woman inside her’ and see just why she was so disturbingly mature for a seven-year old girl. Maybe they could have had a clash of wits over chess instead, pitting the strategies of a man of intellect versus a lady of combat. Alas, it was not meant to be. All he could do was shelve the thought and hope they would cross paths again in the future.

“Now then,” he murmured and faced the remaining heroes. “As for you three…”

He summoned Reichenbach upon his hand and slammed it upon the ground. The trio got into their battle positions, and Spartacus laughed, “Oh, this is rich! If you were not an oppressor, I would feel sorry for such a feeble man attempting to face the full might of my rebellion!”

“No, no, no, my good Thracian. Do not be mistaken,” Moriarty _tsk_ ed at the gladiator. “I would not be fool enough to challenge you on my own. That’s why I have plenty of backup.”

He waved his hand across the air as if to welcome an unexpected guest. The ground suddenly rumbled, and shards of ice rained around them as multiple points in the earth bulged about. One by one, the boil-like heaps of ground burst open to reveal hundreds, maybe thousands, of grey aliens ranging in different sizes, appearances, and weaponry. They converged upon the trio, completely blocking off any sort of escape they could hope to have.

“An ambush!” Leonidas growled darkly, raising his shield before him. “’Tis just as I feared!”

“What are you talking about? This is only getting interesting!” Spartacus laughed defiantly, smacking his gladius upon his hand. “For the silver-tongued villain to summon so many at once only shows how meek he truly is! Crushing these miniature tyrants is just the appetizer before the main dish!”

“Ah, but I can have the Holy Grail conjure more at will,” Moriarty reminded them as he aimed his coffin-device at them. “If I cannot win with strength alone, attrition will do the job nicely for me.”

Sanson suddenly rushed at him, smashing his sword against the contraption. He exclaimed, “I wouldn’t be so sure of that! You can’t summon more if you have to concentrate on fighting me!”

“Would you like to put that theory to the test?”

The two men leapt high, taking their battle atop the massive ice spikes covering Area 51. Meanwhile, Leonidas and Spartacus were left to deal with an impossible horde of monsters on the ground.

“Grr… This does not look favorable for us,” the Spartan murmured. “The only thing we can hope to do is to keep these things at bay long enough for the Little One to finish her task.”

Spartacus didn’t care about the insurmountable odds. It only invigorated him to charge into the fray and take on the aliens with everything he had. While he worked on thinning out their numbers offensively, Leonidas remained in front of the large doors to act as a shield keeping the monsters outside. It was all they could do for Connla now, and they began the fight with her in their minds and hearts.

* * *

The young spearman couldn’t hear anything that was going on in the outside world. All that greeted her was absolute silence. There was hollow noise coming from the expansive walls of the underground research facility, but no sounds came from any sort of living being other than herself. The entrance began with a ramp that descended for multiple floors which contained the many security stations. She noticed splatters of dried blood on the cracked windows inside some of the rooms. She kept going until she reached a VIP elevator that allowed her to descend to the area’s deepest bowels. No buttons worked other than the letter B, which glowed red in the eerie darkness, so she pressed it and waited for the trip to end.

After going down maybe 30 or 40 stories below the earth, the doors slid open and allowed Connla to exit. Once she stepped out, they snapped shut behind her. She wouldn’t have been strong enough to pry them back open, meaning she was stuck here. She looked around at the technology surrounding her, yet the metallic, futuristic décor didn’t seem to stir any fascination within her. It all felt so hollow and unreal as human invention – it was as if she had stepped into a cheesy sci-fi movie UFO instead. Given the choice, she would have preferred the green heights of Scotland or Ireland over this dismal example of cold-hearted innovation.

Fighting back the nostalgia, Connla continued walking along the drab white and silver hallways. The attached bunkers looked suitable as nuclear shelters for important dignitaries should the worst ever happen. She passed by what was once Xerxes’ quarters and glanced inside, seeing nothing but crumpled blankets and empty bottles of alcohol. She also saw the main control room on her way, now dark and silent. The young girl thought she was going to get lost in this huge place, but something seemed to be tugging at her very soul, beckoning her to go a particular direction.

_Is something calling out to me…?_

Connla eventually reached the last room down the seemingly endless halls and pushed her way through several layers of doors. Their security functions were disabled, but it was obvious that only the most top-class personnel ever got to see what was behind these stalwart entrances. Now, she could see it as well, and it frightened her.

There she was, in the gargantuan underground research facility dedicated to the top-secret study of the aliens. The tugging sensation grew stronger in here, attracting her towards the very center of the room. It started to make sense to her once she saw the True Holy Grail resting atop its altar, while Curruid stood in front of it with his back turned to her. Connla exhaled a nervous breath that curled in front of her face. She wasn’t sure if he had noticed her or not. She was afraid that if she made any sort of unnecessary noise, the whole world would shatter into glassy fragments around them.

After a long pause, the Avenger finally murmured, “You’re here.”

“… Mm.”

“Let’s not rush this. Now that no one is here to interrupt us, we can take this time to talk.”

Connla became confused. She had come here to fight him, not to converse. With her nerves feeing so edgy however, it wasn’t exactly a proposition she would refuse either. She asked, “Talk? About what?”

“Well now… Let’s see… Do you know why this world has deviated from the normal timeline and become a Singularity?”

She blinked. As a matter of fact, that issue never really came up during her journey.

Curruid continued, as if in a trance, “It all began around 50 years ago when this country’s military made contact with an extraterrestrial ship that was stranded near this planet. The Americans guided the ship towards this facility with the promise of refuge, only to betray the visitors by capturing and subjecting them to countless experiments. Then, 10 years later, there came a problem – the aliens’ life expectancy was not as long as the researchers hoped for. If they wanted to continue their work, they needed to find a way to either keep the creatures alive, or to replicate them.

“They set their sights on the Holy Grail – the real one that belongs to this world - which the Mage’s Association had possession of. Through a network of spies and traitors to the Association, the Americans acquired the Grail and used it to duplicate countless numbers of the aliens for the next four decades. Through their extremely classified work, the scientists began to understand the aliens’ biology and what technology they brought with them in their ship. The aliens were never seen as friends, but as tools of knowledge and war. If any other country tried to invade America, the President had a secret army of monsters and extraterrestrial technology at his command to retaliate.

“Such subterfuge is what has made this country the most prosperous in the world. They leeched off what the aliens brought and gave nothing in return. But it’s not a surprise that humans are like that. Whether it is researching aliens or remembering heroes, they praise the bastards and crush the guiltless beneath their feet.”

Connla wasn’t sure what to say as a rebuke. There probably was nothing she could retort with anyway.

“That is why I deemed this Singularity the most fitting for my stage,” Curruid said as he turned to face her. “You are just as pure and tragic as the innocent aliens who placed their trust in the real monsters – the humans who shattered that faith and used them as tools – and then were swept away as if they never existed.”

“…”

“Upon this false Holy Grail that I materialized with, I summoned the Servants needed for me to take control of this facility, so that I could then take the real Grail and wish for you to be recorded in the Throne of Heroes. After that, it was just a matter of my puppet rulers unleashing chaos upon this state so that the World would summon you to avert this crisis, as per my wish, and that we could face each other as rivals.”

“But that second Grail…” Connla murmured worriedly. “It’s made by a Demon God, isn’t it? Does that mean your transformation into an Avenger was brought on by their corruption?”

“Not entirely, but close enough,” his red eyes eerily shone beneath his helmet. “The weakened Demon God that appeared here, having escaped after Goetia’s downfall, inhabited me as its vessel in response to my most hidden desire, and brought my suppressed despair over killing you to the surface. That doesn’t mean I am under its control - my mind is very much my own. The Demon God and I have simply come to an agreement; I destroy the Humanity Order Foundation on its behalf, and it gives me the power to make my wish come true through the Grail it gave me.

“Whether I succeed or fail in destroying this world depends entirely on you. It does not matter if we become Servants together or we fall into the void with the rest of humanity. Regardless of the outcome, I have created a situation where I will win. Therefore, as you have been summoned to be my counterpart, it would be in your best interest to protect this world, no matter how rotten it may be, and be defined as a savior upon the Throne of Heroes.”

Having said his piece, Curruid hunched forward in his battle stance and declared, “Now that you know what you must do, it is time for you to complete your legend.”

“Father… Will nothing I say make you stop?” Connla asked. “Don’t you know that I was okay with being little more than a character in your legend? I acknowledge that my origins are far more humble than yours, and I would have gladly been forgotten if it meant maintaining the proper course of history. This whole notion of wishing for my name upon the Throne is absurd!”

The Avenger shuddered with rage, which made her anxious enough to ready her spear.

 ** _“Are you joking with me!?”_** Curruid suddenly screamed and charged at her, smashing his huge claws against her polearm. Their faces were so close to each other’s that she could see his livid ruby eyes beneath his helmet.

“I’m not joking whatsoever! You’ve been going on and on about your feelings, but not once have I told you how I felt about all of this! Those are _my_ true thoughts! If you really love me this much, you would learn to let me go and move on from your grief! I never would have thought that the great Cuchulainn would be so lacking in resolve! I’m absolutely ashamed in you!”

**_“SHUT UP!”_ **

His shriek echoed throughout the lab as he swung his bladed gauntlets in a wide arc, forcing her to jump back with gymnastic grace.

“You say you’re doing it for me, but you don’t care how I feel at all!” Connla yelled, then was forced to sweep aside as Curruid slammed his claws upon the ground she was on. She whipped behind him and slashed at his back, cutting open a significant portion of skin that gushed blood everywhere. He roared so loudly that some of the test containers shattered, spilling aqua fluid and alien bodies everywhere. She kept ranting, “This is all for yourself! This is the only thing you can think of to help you move past the grief – by defying death itself and reviving me when I should never have come back!”

 _“So what!?”_ Curruid shouted as they continued fighting in a crazed storm of blades and sparks. “What’s wrong with being a little selfish!?”

“Seeking total genocide in order to fashion me into a hero who stops you is a far cry from ‘a little selfish’!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about! Can’t you see that your selflessness is just as hard for me to listen to!? Wishing for your own oblivion to preserve the greater good is nothing but a fallacy that will forever be unrewarded!”

“Unlike you, I am someone who will not run from the truth! I acknowledge that my existence is not meant to last beyond what is told in your tale! I also acknowledge the pain you have suffered over killing me, but not the method by which you seek to resolve it! If you’re as strong as your legend claims you to be, then you would accept these truths as well! Otherwise, you’re just a common killer who hides behinds demented excuses to escape from reality!”

**_“GRAA~AA~AAGH!”_ **

Connla’s last statement made Curruid _snap_. He thrashed about wildly, forcing her to go on the defensive. His three-pronged claws were so huge that it felt like she was fighting against six Gae Bolgs simultaneously. Upon one swipe, she deftly back flipped clean through the gap between two claws, startling him momentarily and allowing her to stab his midsection. He roared in pain, feeling his internal organs being pierced through. He bashed his claw against her, sending her tumbling across the ground and freeing him of her spear. She leapt back to her feet mid-slide and hurled a bevy of Ansuz-charged rocks at him, leaving them to detonate around him while she tried to gain some distance. He didn’t care though; he just charged through the firestorm as if it didn’t exist.

Fortunately, the brief brightness from the explosions blinded Curruid enough so that Connla could hide behind one of the large test containers. He lost sight of her and unleashed a taunting howl before smashing his claws against one of the many lab desks. One by one, he tore through any obstacles that she could use as a shield, hoping to draw her back out into the open. Each sudden crash of machinery and equipment spooked her to the core, inciting her to scurry along the backside of the containers as quietly as she could. In the heavy silence however, her boot accidentally snapped a piece of broken glass, catching his attention.

“Over there…?” Curruid glowered, then shoved his claw clean through a container she had been behind previously. Connla gasped and kept moving along.

_I need to hurry!_

All while playing probably the world’s deadliest iteration of hide and seek, she was focused on activating her Noble Phantasm, channeling the energy of countless lost heroes into her weapon. She didn’t want to use it while fighting Curruid directly because she knew he wouldn’t give her the opportunity. He had been caught off guard last time, but this time he was prepared to block her with his heavier layers of scaly armor. She had been analyzing his weak points in his new form and finding a spot where she could strike with all of her might. Now it was just a matter of catching him while he was busy searching for her.

Once she was ready, Connla gripped her spear and let the winds carry her across the room. The surprise breezes attracted Curruid’s attention, but he was too late to stop her from flying about randomly.

 **“Laoch Gan Finsceal!”** she unleashed her Noble Phantasm’s True Name and proceeded to smash, slash, and pierce at him like an invisible razor blade. Beakers, papers and broken machinery flew everywhere in the windstorm. Any attempt he made to block her was pointless, so he actually didn’t try. He was like an eroding wall being chipped bit by bit from the elements until most of his skin could be seen again, which was what Connla wanted.

“TAAAH!”

She swung one last time at his chest, and more torrential winds exploded out of his body, shearing anything that was nearby into pieces. She looked back to see if she had defeated him, taking this moment to catch her breath. Within the dying storms however, Curruid’s clawed hand suddenly reached through the darkness and wrapped around her small body.

“Kyah!?” she shrieked, wriggling to break free. “Wh-What’s going on-!?”

The little girl couldn’t fight back against his awesome might, and she resigned to looking at him in shock. He definitely had sustained some nasty injuries, and she could see his scarred face once again, but it disappeared beneath the black helmet as it reconstituted itself and his armor around him.

_No way… He’s regenerating!?_

Connla saw a small flash coming from Curruid’s chest tattoos, then remembered the False Holy Grail. The Demon God inside it was healing his grotesque wounds, rendering her efforts completely useless.

“That was careless of you,” he said. “You had the right idea, but your aim was off. If you had struck the Grail inside me, it probably would have been fatal.”

“Ungh-!” His grip was so tight that she could barely breathe, and she saw her vision going dark. She could feel multiple bones creaking under the pressure.

“I see that you’re reaching your limit. You exhausted all of your strength into that Noble Phantasm, and trying it again would be suicide for you. Your body is also not strong enough to penetrate these regenerating layers of scales that encase me."

Curruid sighed in disappointment. “How unfortunate. If you really are incapable of becoming a proper Heroic Spirit, then it’s no wonder humanity preferred summoning me over you. Discard what doesn’t work and rely on what does, as is their credo of convenience. I had hoped you would prove your worth to the Throne, but if you’re too weak to defeat me, it will kick you out of human memory once again. Then I’ll give it all up – my wish… my will to fight… this world… humans… the Throne… all of it…”

His last statement was heavy with sorrow, but she was too dazed to listen. She passed out, and he gently set her down upon the ground before approaching the True Holy Grail on its pedestal.

“You did your best,” he continued sullenly, then proceeded to send more of his chilly energy into the chalice. “There’s nothing more I could have asked of you. Don’t worry; it’ll all be over soon. You and I will go to the void along with every other human on this planet, and we’ll dream happily together. If we can’t fight together as Servants, then we can go on adventures together in a shared dream. With no one left to remember any kind of heroes, the Throne will be silent for all eternity. It is perfect. I will be reunited with you, and my revenge against the Throne will be complete.”


	18. Ascension

**FATE/LAOCH GAN FINSCEAL**

**“Hero Without Legend”**

**Chapter 18: Ascension**

Back outside, it was a complete madhouse of tinny voices and frenzied movement. Thousands of aliens swarmed towards either Spartacus who was relentlessly beating them down, or towards Leonidas who was valiantly guarding the front entrance. Granted, the creatures weren’t very strong individually, but when working together as a single hive, they were virtually unstoppable.

“Gragh!” Leonidas roared as he skewered one of the larger monsters through the chest. “This is futile! No matter how much we tell ourselves to stay strong, it is impossible to win against such madness!”

“The hell you whining about now, Spartan!?” Spartacus exclaimed, still eager to brawl. Unfortunately, he too had to admit that they were fighting a suicidal battle. That didn’t deter him though; he fought to the death in his legend, and it wouldn’t be any different now. His body was covered with so many grotesque injuries that his inherent healing ability wouldn’t be able to save him from certain doom. Spartacus maintained his inhuman smile as he added, “There’s nothing saying we have to survive this!”

“It seems that absurd amount of blood loss has finally gone to your head, Thracian! If we were to fall here, there will be nothing stopping these abominations from chasing after the Little One!”

“I know that! That’s why you and I must bring our powers together for one last stand!”

“How do you propose we do that!?”

“Heh hah hah hah! I can feel it! My Noble Phantasm is growing more rapidly than I can contain it! But if I unleash it now, I may only destroy half of this horde!”

Leonidas realized what Spartacus was suggesting. It was true that the gladiator’s power was immense when he detonated it upon his enemies, but he didn’t have much control over where that energy went. With the mob scattered about everywhere, it wasn’t a guarantee that he would clean them up with his last attack. That was what Spartacus wanted Leonidas to do; to use his own Noble Phantasm to act as bait that would draw all of the monsters into one spot.

“I see!” the Spartan grinned. “For a meathead, you can be surprisingly calculating!”

Without hesitation, he leapt from his defending position and landed in an open spot. He stood tall and called out the True Name of his strongest move:

**_“Thermopylae Enomotia!”_ **

The radiant golden light surrounded him, bathing him with ungodly defensive power. The aliens were drawn toward the brilliance and rushed toward Leonidas in a singular assault. He smiled, knowing this was the end for him. As thousands of small bodies swarmed over him and proceeded to devour him in a carnal tumult of teeth and claws, he thought of his comrades through this short journey. All of them left something special behind in his heart – Spartacus and his absurd yet valiant hardheadedness; Sanson and his cool-minded logic; Arash and his love for his county and people; finally, Connla and her courage to face such horrible trials despite her inexperience.

No matter how much time passed, or how many wars he would be summoned into, he wouldn’t forget how each of them impacted him. That was why he was glad to die for them, the same way he perished for his beloved Sparta centuries ago – they too were part of his kingdom now.

Leonidas raised his spear high, breaking it and his hand through the top of a proverbial anthill of aliens, as he shouted his dying words:

**_“This is… SPARTAA~AA~AA!”_ **

* * *

Spartacus observed his partner as he was swallowed up by the horde, knowing he would not emerge alive. All this while, the gladiator’s body was swelling and turning red, practically turning his limbs into tumors that writhed with a life of their own. The pain that would break lesser men gave him an ecstasy he had never felt before in his life as a Heroic Spirit. It compounded itself more and more as some straggling monsters attacked him relentlessly.

Like Leonidas, he too thought about his comrades in his dying moments. He was glad to have met others who shared the same desire that he had of overthrowing oppression. Most heroes would call Spartacus an idiot for barging in headfirst into danger, not carefully planning what sort of perils he would face. Although Leonidas frequently berated him for such behavior, he never actually tried to stop him from pursuing what he felt was right. He wasn’t sure if the remaining three agreed with his kind of thinking or simply went along with it, but he didn’t mind so long as they didn’t interfere with him. Thanks to that, he was able to unleash his full fury upon the villains who desecrated this timeline.

Spartacus wished he could express his gratitude in a different way, such as a grand feast, but he would have to do with giving Sanson and Connla the breathing room they needed to finish their own battles. He was especially concerned for leaving the young Lancer behind when he promised to protect her. Even so, she proved to him that he could place his faith in her as a warrior. He wouldn’t feel too bad about seeing how everything else would play out from the Throne.

He hunched forward, feeling like he would vomit his organs. His body crunched and contorted as the power stored within him reached critical mass.

**_“YES! THIS IS IT!”_ **

Spartacus couldn’t think straight anymore. His mind and body had deteriorated past the point of no return, but his indomitable spirit shone within the mass of flesh and muscle he had become. He had reached the apex of gathering all of his power. The many wounds he endured throughout this journey built up for this one moment of glory.

**_“LEONIDAS! SANSON! ARASH! CONNLA! BY THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS GOOD AND EQUAL, I SHALL VANQUISH ALL WHO STAND IN THE WAY OF OUR REBELLION! MAY THIS LIGHT THAT TRIUMPHS OVER DARKNESS SIGNAL OUR IMMINENT VICTORY!”_ **

He barely had enough left to unleash his Noble Phantasm’s True Name, but he didn’t need to. Like a living piece of dynamite, his body exploded and unleashed a wave of raw, bright white energy that shot forth like an all-encompassing electric laser. The horde of aliens gathering over Leonidas’ dead body was a convenient target for Spartacus to aim towards. They stood no chance of escaping, and the immense power engulfed them entirely. One by one, they disintegrated into nothing. The brilliant flashes and deafening crashes continued for a good minute as the laser tore through the earth, reaching as far as the middle of Yucca Flat dozens of miles away. Once the energy was exhausted, the light dimmed and allowed the world to return to normal. All that remained was a huge, smoldering gash across the ground.

* * *

“Hoh…” was all James Moriarty could murmur.

From atop the ice structure, he and Sanson were the only ones left to witness Spartacus’ suicide attack and the amazing energy he unleashed upon the monsters. Although the executioner couldn’t see his partners, he could tell from the resounding silence that neither of them were alive any longer. It was fortunate that the impossible horde had been completely decimated however. Sanson could now take his time fighting Moriarty without fear of an ambush.

“A gallant effort from two of history’s greatest defenders of the innocent,” the Englishman complimented. “But it doesn’t mean much when the foundation of Humanity itself shall crumble before Curruid’s immense hatred.”

“She won’t let that happen,” his opponent declared. “She will bring peace to that man’s tormented soul. I must be the one to stop _you_ from causing the end of the world during an unguarded moment.”

“While your resolve is admirable, it is starting to become a nuisance. Be a good fellow and disappear for me.”

Moriarty leapt high and unleashed another bevy of missiles at Sanson. They detonated around him as he bounced up the icy incline towards his foe. They were engulfed in a storm of sound and fury as hundreds of small projectiles exploded along the ice, raining glassy fragments around them. Sanson maintained his deft running speed, hopping along the numerous spikes to avoid the missiles. He knew he couldn’t keep this up forever though. He needed to get in close and finish this quickly, and Moriarty maintained his assault precisely to avoid that.

“What’s wrong?” he called out. “Do you intend to wait until I have exhausted my armory? It is pointless. Reichenbach is an endless supply of weapons at my disposal. The only thing that will be exhausted is your stamina.”

_He’s right,_ Sanson had to admit. _So long as he has his eyes on me, he will always take aim at me. However, he’s forgetting the most crucial aspect about me being an Assassin._

After more missiles exploded around him, he disappeared from Moriarty’s view. For several tense minutes, he swung his coffin-device about in search of his prey. The air was frightfully still. He remained calm and carefully thought of what his opponent was planning.

_I can’t sense him… Ah, but of course. Presence Concealment. He wants to get a sneak attack by masking his aura. Perhaps if he were an Old Man of the Mountain, it would be an effective strategy. But he is not experienced in the ways of combat, and I’m sure he is aware of that as well. So what is he trying to accomplish?_

After another brief moment of silence, that was when he felt the ice spike he stood upon shake. He looked back and noticed that the thickest part of the spike had been cleaved through, causing the rest to fall upon a lower array of points. Moriarty was astonished to lose his footing in the fall, and he saw Sanson jump off another sharp edge straight toward him. He fired more rockets, but the Frenchman disregarded the volley and took a mighty swing at one of his arms, cleaving it off cleanly. They crashed upon another jut of ice and glared at each other.

Despite his grievous wound, Moriarty muttered, “My compliments, lad. You certainly live up to your name as a state-sponsored killer.”

“Spare me. Your reign of terror is over. Submit to your sentence.”

“But of course… After you submit to yours.”

“What-? _Gwagh!?_ ” Sanson gasped, and his eyes suddenly bulged wide open. An unexpected piercing pain shot through his back and belly, spraying blood everywhere in front of him. A stray missile that had veered back behind him detonated over the calm Moriarty’s head as he stared emptily at his wounded foe. Bits of ice showered over them as Sanson retched in horror and lost his balance. He collapsed onto one knee, his mind unable to comprehend the gross amount of pain and blood loss he was enduring.

_So this is what it’s like… when an execution goes wrong…_

Even in such a state, he could still feel pity for the ones who suffered agonizing deaths at the hands of incompetent executioners. His pride wouldn’t allow him to forget those people, which was why he worked and studied hard to implement a humane form of execution, culminating in his invention of the guillotine. Staring into Moriarty’s cold blue eyes though, Sanson could tell that the gentleman didn’t care how his enemies suffered. Instantaneous death or an agonizing passing didn’t mean much to him; only the person’s eventual demise.

Sanson couldn’t stand it. Those who only cared about results were an emotionless breed. Let others do the work while the planner sat back and waited for the outcome they wanted. He hated those kinds of people. Inept executioners, criminal masterminds, tyrannical despots, idealistic cult leaders… They all made him want to kill them for their stupidity. If it wasn’t for fools like them, the world would be a much better place. Yes, it was impossible to eliminate all suffering, but it could be greatly reduced if he had the freedom to separate the chaff from the wheat.

That was why he was so determined to execute a villain like Moriarty even though he was going to die at any moment.

“This is the end, Charles-Henri Sanson,” Moriarty murmured coolly, aiming his gun at the defeated lad’s head.

In an act of defiance however, the headsman smirked a little.

“Yeah, it is…”

That was when the world turned to black around the Englishman. He instinctively tried to escape, but he noticed something binding his feet to the ice. Shadowy hands crawled out from beneath him and latched their fingers around his ankles.

“You-!?”

“Your death will be hope for tomorrow,” Sanson said. “A phrase of both good and evil, hope and despair. I carry those burdens within my soul as the scales of justice. If no other is willing to dirty their hands with such a despicable belief, then I shall do so.”

Moriarty was mortified to see what appeared next. A pair of steel pillars embellished with carvings of dead bodies flanked him, and at the top was a familiar angled blade. It glinted, cold and steely as the ice surrounding the two men. It appeared in response to Sanson’s dark feelings towards evildoers, granting him the weapon he needed to make his dark yet honorable dream a reality.

**_“La Mort…”_ **

Sanson held his sword forth and commanded the guillotine to fall upon Moriarty, calling out his Noble Phantasm’s True Name.

**_“ESPOIR!”_ **

The blade fell perfectly vertical upon the Englishman’s neck, shining bright in the dark world for a blinking moment.

Despite its gory nature and origin, this was not a Noble Phantasm that actually guaranteed death to the target. It was both a probability machine and a judgment check for the victim. Factors that one’s life gave them such as resistances against curses, blessings of good fortune, or even guilt or innocence didn’t determine the likelihood of death or survival. It was only gauged by how one was able to conquer their fate when faced with the fear of losing their mortality. One had to be strong of heart to see the guillotine, know what was coming, and accept Sanson’s mercy with a smile to actually avoid the Noble Phantasm. In other words, so long as a person wasn’t afraid of dying, its effects could be reduced to just mere damage, not instantaneous death.

Moriarty was not like that. That was why Sanson had no respect for the man; the criminal mastermind was a worldly beast who held on to materialistic possessions, refusing to let them go even when faced with the light of justice. Sanson remembered what it was like for him when he had to execute his beloved Queen Marie Antoinette. Although she too was a woman of flaunting wealth and status, she loved her country to the very end and died for it, even if she wasn’t praised by her people for it. Moriarty only cared about his own status, going so far as to flee to the depths of the underworld to gain power. He abandoned the light that Marie Antoinette shared with her subjects, and it made Sanson sick.

_My Queen… I shall rid the world of this filth and send it to a dark hell unbefitting of your eyes…_

In that momentary flash of light, Moriarty’s sentence was completed. No screams of agony could be heard. Just perfect silence after the guillotine hit its mark. Sanson couldn’t ask for more. The deed was done, and it was carried out with no unnecessary pain. As an executioner, he was satisfied with his work. However unpleasant it was, he wouldn’t be afraid of destroying evil with the same evil. It was moments like this that he strived for; destroying darkness in order to preserve the light.

The gaping wound in Sanson’s abdomen spewed out blood faster than he realized. He coughed up more blood and collapsed face-first upon the ice. Red fluid flowed over the frozen spike and ran upon its sides relentlessly. He had no more strength left to continue. Since Leonidas and Spartacus were gone, all he could think about was Connla.

_Now that I recall… I never got to confront her about lying to me…_

He smiled lightly. Why now, of all times, did he have to remember about her saying she didn’t know who Cuchulainn was? Normally he would be upset with someone who committed perjury in his presence. But he wasn’t a judge or the jury - he was just the executioner. He didn’t have the right to make that call against a little girl who was simply scared. Given how insane Cuchulainn had become, Sanson couldn’t blame her for not telling the truth. She probably didn’t want to get him involved with her problems.

_How stupid of me. I should be happy to have fought alongside her. Most Heroic Spirits would curse me for my grim deeds, but she was never afraid of me. She even lifted my spirits when I found out Earp’s group was gone…_

He closed his eyes, having completely lost his strength, and his body started to fade in golden light.

_Sorry I couldn’t be of more help. I’ll be praying for your success from the Throne._

* * *

Connla opened her eyes, finding herself lying on her side in a pool of fluid from the broken test containers. It felt like every single bone in her body was broken. She had no strength left to get up, and terror seized her heart because she knew Curruid was still nearby. She found it strange that he hadn’t killed her when he had the opportunity. Maybe he was holding on to some small hope that she would get back up and defeat him. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she sensed the immense grief in his voice and figured that was the case. She wanted so badly to fight, but her bones and muscles failed to heed her demands – he must have crushed them within his grip.

_This is it, isn’t it? As I am now, I have no chance of defeating Father._

She shut her eyes in resignation, thinking of her comrades and the trust they placed in her.

_I’m so sorry, everyone. I tried so hard, but I can’t save him. I’m not strong enough… to save anyone…_

That was when she felt a small hand touch her own. She looked over and saw one of the emaciated grey aliens holding her hand and looking back at her with its large, beady black eyes. A jumble of noises and slurred speech crept in her mind. The alien was telepathically calling out to her, and she somehow understood it. Even though they didn’t speak the same language, its feelings were enough for her to comprehend.

_You’ll give me your strength?_

Connla looked at the other fallen aliens, who all likewise had their gazes fixed on her. Their bodies shone a soft aqua color as they slowly evaporated into pure mana.

_Oh, I see. You’re all replicas made by the Holy Grail. You want to give me your mana so I can stop Father._

She smiled lightly.

_You all want this nightmare to end too, don’t you?_

Once she conveyed her thoughts to all of the aliens, they expressed their gratitude with countless feline-ish purrs reverberating in her soul. They were happy that someone finally reached out to them, even though it took decades for this small miracle to occur. The aliens lost their physical forms and converged their mana upon Connla, transforming her into a bright white silhouette. She felt their energy course through her body, and she floated back up into a standing position while throwing her head back. Her broken bones and crushed muscles were restored back to full health, and the searing pain disappeared.

Curruid saw this and murmured in surprise. He never anticipated that the magically cloned creatures would sacrifice themselves to help Connla.

_Is this the rumored evolution of a Servant? The power of… Ascension?_

He watched silently as his daughter’s outfit changed within the light. The brightness eventually dissipated, revealing her new form. She landed softly upon the puddle of mysterious liquid, rippling it with her toes. Her adventurer’s outfit was gone, replaced with a magnificent suit of silver armor enshrouded by a mantle made out of white wolf fur. She wore a white dress over her bodysuit, and a tabard emblazoned with an intricate icovellavna draped itself over the skirt. The biggest change was that she wore a full-faced silver helmet modeled with wolf ears and covered with a jagged visor – an homage to Cuchulainn’s mask in the _Prisma Illya_ universe. She was barely recognizable as a seven-year old girl, now appearing as a full-fledged white knight of protection in contrast to his black knight of destruction.

Connla faced Curruid and got into her battle stance with her spear, declaring only one word:

“Come.”


	19. Pierce With Conclusion

**FATE/LAOCH GAN FINSCEAL**

**“Hero Without Legend”**

**Chapter 19: Pierce With Conclusion**

Curruid’s breath flowed through his helmet. He didn’t know what to think of his daughter’s transformation into a proper knight. On the one hand, he was furious with the aliens for interrupting his desire to destroy everything. Yet as he gazed upon Connla’s new form and the immense amount of confidence exuding from her soul, he couldn’t resist feeling elated. Was his dream finally going to come true? Was she powerful enough to put a stop to him at last? He grew excited from wanting to put these questions to the test.

Connla got into a tall stance, then pointed her spear at four points on the ground around her and drew four specific Runes - Ansuz, the Rune of Flame; Algiz, the Rune of Life; Nauthiz, the Rune of Necessity; and Inguz, the Rune of Internal Growth. While they each had individual effects, when put together like this, they created a seal called Ath nGabla, the Rune of Vows. It served as an ‘arena’ where the one who set the Runes could no longer retreat, and those who saw them were not allowed to refuse combat. If one interpreted the four Runes as a whole statement, it would be, “The flame of life is necessary for human growth.” To go against this vow was to reject human evolution through fierce trials and fall into spiritual stagnation. That was why Connla set Ath nGabla for herself; she wanted to reach a new level of combat prowess and understanding so that she could save Cuchulainn’s soul.

Once Curruid saw those sigils, he understood what her message was; she was ready to fight to the death, and he had to respond equally. No more keeping her alive to let her see the end. Despite the sub-zero temperatures, his blood boiled with anticipation.

Nothing needed to be said between them anymore. It was time to fight.

In an instantaneous move, Connla disappeared from Curruid’s view in a haze of green torrents. His eyes widened beneath his helmet, and he instinctively raised his claw upward to block a surprise piercing blow that she directed from above without him seeing it. The force behind it was so powerful that it snapped off one of the three claws on that hand with a deafening clang. Even though he was encased in heavy armor, not even it could prevent him from sliding back due to the recoil. Connla returned to the air in a stream of imperceptible winds, richocheting around at such blinding speeds that only those with Clairvoyance would be able to react accordingly, which Curruid did not possess. The cold air whooshed about with the strong gales each time she passed by him.

It took everything he had to block her fervent advances, and his armor kept cracking bit by bit with each consecutive blow. Even the surfaces she bounced off of rapidly showed signs of wear as the force of each landing dented those spots. All this while, Connla remained perfectly calm and focused on destroying Curruid’s armor faster than it could regenerate. She could start to see more and more of him with every successful blow she landed on him.

Despite the storm he was fighting through, he remembered what happened when she used the same strategy on him before. Although the rate was much faster than their last battle, the pattern she used for her movement was identical. He snarled and raised his hand forth as she rocketed straight for him.

 ** _“Pathetic!”_** he shouted, prepared to snatch her in midair.

However, it wasn’t going to be as simple as he expected. In an instant, his astonished eyes were suddenly inches away from the tip of her spear as it exploded in a gush of blood clean through his armored hand. Connla extracted her weapon out of his palm and flipped backwards with the grace of a gymnast.

“Not bad. You knew I was going to figure it out,” Curruid smirked beneath his cracked helmet.

Following that compliment, they clashed in the wildest frenzy that any two warriors were capable of. If there had been anyone watching them, they would have only seen sparks of deep red and bright green striking each other repeatedly, neither gaining the upper hand over the other. Curruid was definitely about overpowering his enemy with brute force, but Connla’s supersonic reflexes and elegant movements prevented him from getting in any sort of serious attack. Speaking from a strictly statistical view, Connla had become a glass cannon; a strong offensive warrior, but possessing poor defense. Taking any sort of strong attack from Curruid would definitely break her apart, so she had to remain on the move at all times.

_I feel so light._

Connla leapt and danced around Curruid’s massive claw strikes with no fear. Even though she knew what her most glaring weakness was, she didn’t let it bog her down with worry. Her speed more than made up for the lack of defensive power, and her body flowed around the battlefield like river water passing through one’s fingers. Such impossible speed and reflexes just seemed to feel normal to her now. Curruid’s blood flew everywhere, splattering the floor, destroyed desks, machinery, and even Connla’s armor.

“Kgh…” he gasped heavily. “Good, good. You wouldn’t be the Child of Cuchulainn if you couldn’t do this much to me.”

His expression was strained at first, but then he smiled wickedly as he said, “But while you may have reached new heights, there’s still something you’re fatally lacking.”

Connla raised an eyebrow and wondered, _What is he talking about?_

**_“RHAGH!”_ **

He raised his claw and swung down hard upon her. She raised her spear forth to block it, squeezing her eyes shut to cope with the inevitable recoil. What she didn’t expect was that the polearm would snap apart in her grasp!

_No…!_

This was what Curruid referred to. Even though she Ascended as a Servant, her weapon did not. It was still the same wooden pole with a basic blade attached to the tip – a common weapon that anyone could pick up and use. All of the strikes, blows and stabs she had utilized it for throughout this entire journey wound up wearing down the wood too much. He hadn’t used his full strength against it, and it already broke apart into useless splinters. At this rate, there was no way she could keep fighting against him without a melee weapon.

She gasped aloud and flipped about to avoid his violent onslaught. The only things she could use against him were her slingshot, enchanted stones, and the Runes she learned from Scathach. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t be as effective while she was a Lancer. If she were an Archer or a Caster, they would be good backup strategies, but the class she had been summoned into prioritized her skills as a foot soldier. She needed to find a replacement weapon, and _fast_. Even if it was a sword, it was still better than nothing.

“How sad, using a fragile twig like that as your only hope against me,” Curruid snapped.

Connla didn’t respond. She decided to keep her distance for now and scour the area for something else she could use. Even though her stones wouldn’t be very helpful, she tossed them at him anyway and left them to explode against the unamused Avenger’s face while she dashed away.

_Is there something around here!? Anything!?_

A tremendous rush of slicing winds tore through the air around her, and she was scooped off her feet and sent tumbling wildly across the seemingly endless laboratory. Parts of her armor and dress were ripped through, and her helmet broke to show a portion of her agitated face. She got on her hands and knees while looking up at Curruid. From her lower perspective and the dim blue lights illuminating the place, he looked like a massive black behemoth from another dimension, and he sauntered slowly toward her. It was as if she had become the main heroine in a horror film looking for that one last trick to take out the nightmarish monster before she was eaten alive. Her reality really wasn’t that far off either.

Connla scampered away as Curruid roared and lunged at her, digging his bladed talons through the ground with a terrifying rumble. No matter if she was scared or disarmed, she had to keep moving. The moment she stopped and gave up, it would be all over. She ran so fast in the darkness that she actually wound up colliding against the opposite wall by accident. She glanced back at her enemy as he kept stalking her. That was when something caught her attention.

There it was. Tucked in the far back corner like an abandoned walking cane was a familiar javelin-like polearm. It was none other than the cursed crimson spear, Gae Bolg. Something had been bothering her at the very back of her mind throughout the entire fight, and seeing it finally solidified those thoughts.

_Why has Father not used Gae Bolg on me? If he did, his victory would be assured…_

Connla looked over at Curruid again as he approached her one weary step at a time. His breathing was labored and audible within the enormous, silent ruins of the laboratory. He was hurting from her earlier assault, but definitely capable of killing her in this state. She looked at his claws and realized a fatal flaw with them; while he was indeed a hulking brute thanks to the black scales of the eponymous sea monster encasing him, it was also too heavy for him to rely on his usual quick moves when he was a Lancer. Using a thin weapon like Gae Bolg would not be practical for him, so he essentially discarded it. Or maybe the armor itself prohibited the cursed spear’s usage. She wasn’t sure, but it meant one simple thing:

Gae Bolg was hers for the taking.

Connla snatched the red lance in her hand, surprised by how light it was in her grasp. As she held it, the spear shone briefly and changed its appearance from a spiked stick that was two meters tall to something smaller that she could use. The lance became a thin rod etched with symmetrical patterns, suitable to its wielder’s composed nature. Its power seemed to change in response to her will, and she instinctively knew what it was. It would not be the “Soaring Spear that Struck With Death” that Lancer Cuchulainn used to kill his enemies, nor the “Gouging Piercing Spear of Carnage” that Cuchulainn Alter possessed to spread ruin. It had morphed into a form fitting for her, and her alone, who wished to see her father’s heartbreak end for good. Its name was Gae Bolg, the “Crimson Spear that Punctured With Conclusion”. It didn’t seek death or destruction; it wanted finality to the tragedies surrounding her.

She rushed out of the darkness to confront him, determined to end his suffering with her new weapon.

“You? With the gift that Teacher granted only to me?” he wondered. He didn’t scoff at her though. If he was in her situation, he would have done the same. Even so, he still reminded her, “That was the very same spear that killed you, as well as ended the life of my best friend Ferdiad. Can you handle such an immense weight upon your conscience?”

“I don’t have the luxury of asking myself such a question,” Connla replied. “With Ath nGabla binding us to this battle, I have no choice.”

“Well said. No excuses, no regrets, and plenty of resolve. Just the way I like it.”

With Gae Bolg renewing her confidence, the young girl charged at him once again. Although her small arms didn’t have the power to fight back against his colossal might, the spear managed to take the brunt of his attacks without ill effect to her. It looked impossible for the diminutive stick to hold up versus the gargantuan talons and Curruid’s inherent strength, but somehow Connla was not being overwhelmed. In fact, she actually started to push him back as she swung at him with both surgical precision and titanesque force. With one last strike to shove him away, she then jumped so high that she reached the top, turned herself upside-down to press her feet against the ceiling, then launched herself straight down at him at supersonic speed. She smashed so hard against his blocking gauntlets that they shattered into pieces and cratered the floor around his feet.

Curruid was sent flying backwards through several desks, all while struggling to endure the unbearable crushing pain in his legs. He wasn’t sure if he could get back up again under his own power, which triggered him to go into _riastrad_ mode out of desperation. The False Holy Grail inside him healed his cracked bones, but the process was just as agonizing since the demonic black scales were forming right inside his muscles without any way for him to dull the pain. He heaved one of the research tables over his head and hurled it at Connla. She was surprised to see it break through the smoke and did a quick back flip to avoid being crushed beneath it. It was just enough time for Curruid to hurl himself at her like a battering ram. She got a brief look at his expression beneath his helmet, and he was _furious_.

They continued slashing at each other with otherworldly power and agility. Sparks flew everywhere, seemingly in no discernible pattern, as father and daughter fought for their lives against each other. During the harsh confrontation, Connla couldn’t help but think of how bizarre the whole thing was. Curruid wouldn’t be stupid enough to just leave Gae Bolg out in the open like that, knowing it was a legendary spear that could potentially destroy him if his enemies ever obtained it. Now that she acquired it, she could fight toe-to-toe with him without any problems.

It almost felt… too easy.

She was afraid of relying on the red spear too much, wondering if it was some kind of trap that she had walked right into. Yet she couldn’t forget Curruid warning her about how weak her previous spear was before he destroyed it. That was when one question entered her mind:

_Did Father actually **want** me to find Gae Bolg?_

Asking him directly would be senseless. Even though she had her doubts, she had to believe this was not some kind of trick. Without Gae Bolg, she didn’t stand a chance against him. Dragging this fight out for too long wasn’t a smart idea either. She had to end this quickly, for both of their sakes. After parrying another one of his violent strikes, she vaulted backwards and twirled.

_There’s only one way to finish this!_

Upon seeing Connla land, Curruid noticed that her stance was different. Instead of wielding Gae Bolg as a melee weapon, she now held it as a throwing lance. He immediately understood what her plan was and shouted, “Fool! If you intend to unleash Gae Bolg’s true power against me, then you must do so with full force! Yet if you do, you will destroy your body from the effort needed to perform such a feat!”

Curruid’s warning hit home to Connla. It was true – Scathach never trained her on how to use Gae Bolg’s true power. Cuchulainn was the only man she deemed worthy to wield the legendary spear due to his ridiculously high pain threshold. Connla wished she could do the same, but the truth was that her body was too young and immature to handle the destructive stresses associated with using Gae Bolg’s curse. Even so, she had come too far to think about such selfish things. Leonidas, Spartacus, Sanson and Arash had all given their lives to bring her to this point. She believed it was her turn to repay their kindness by putting the last vestiges of her life on the line.

With a bold expression, Connla exclaimed, “Then so be it!”

The familiar crimson aura surrounded the spear in response to her will. Already her entire body was throbbing with pain. She thought her blood vessels would explode before she even had a chance to throw the spear, but she kept her agony in check and concentrated on nothing but conjuring the dreaded reversal of cause and effect. Curruid stood tall and unleashed a guttural roar that shook their surroundings. He didn’t want to give her the chance to use that weapon. He would hate to see her prematurely explode in blood and guts if she wound up being too fragile to use his own Noble Phantasm against him.

Hundreds of small sores burst open everywhere on Connla’s body, completely coating her flesh and dress in blood. Her squeals and small howls of agony worked Curruid up into a mindless frenzy, and he charged at her while gathering a dark orb of freezing energy in his hand. His eyes wide and his face creased with countless anger lines, he screamed at the top of his lungs, **_“I’d rather kill you than let that spear take you away from me again!”_**

He closed the gap between them with each frantic running step, determined to bring a swift and painless end to her misery. Now with only 30 feet separating the two warriors, she had to call out the Noble Phantasm’s name:

**_“GAE BOLG!”_ **

Following what was the mightiest battle cry of her life, Connla hurled the javelin with everything she had, and more. An incredible burst of red energy and wind exploded around her. She didn’t know what happened next, other than feeling a searing fire of pain burning through her throwing arm. She glanced down at her right shoulder to see if everything was okay.

It turned out that everything was _not_ okay.

“Ah…?”

She was confused at first. Where did her arm go? Why was there only a stub left? Why was there blood gushing out of a torn limb when it was perfectly fine just a few seconds ago?

A horrible sound of something sharp piercing through armor and flesh caught her attention, and she looked up at Curruid. With the spear’s power of rewriting causality, and with no way of protecting himself, his demise was guaranteed. As the spear lunged its blade and about half of the stick through his torso, Connla noticed the missing portion of her right arm still clutching tightly to Gae Bolg before plopping to the ground. The energy she needed to throw it through Curruid’s thick armor was so great that it actually wound up tearing her arm off through raw force alone, leaving her with nothing more than her shoulder and sinewy strips of loose skin.

Missing arm aside, Connla struggled to stay upright while watching her father spew  blood through the mouth portion of his helmet. The broken segment of his horned helmet showed just enough of his face for her to see the pain in his eyes. Even though he was in agony, he kept his gaze focused on her as he fell to his knees and slumped forward, his upper body being propped up by Gae Bolg. Both of them breathed hard for several long minutes. The adrenaline rush wore off, so all that was left were the scars of their battle etched upon the building. The deafening sounds of combat that engulfed them just a short time ago fell into complete silence, save for their gasping. Curruid’s armor began to disintegrate, revealing the man hidden inside the dark scales. The False Holy Grail that had been inside him was also pierced through and losing its power.

Connla didn’t know what to say. How was she supposed to approach him like this? She was losing so much blood that she thought she was going to pass out at any moment. Maybe it was better for her not to say anything.

“Heh…”

Curruid, at a time like this, chuckled. His fanged teeth showed themselves through a broad, nightmarish grin.

“Damn it all to Hell… You actually did it…”

Without thinking, Connla slowly stumbled forward until she was right in front of him. She looked up at the impaled monster she called her father. Her small figure greatly contrasted with his massive form covered in dark armor and ghastly spikes. Despite his malformed appearance, she sensed a trace of humanity remaining within his demonic red eyes. It hadn’t been there before, so she must have drawn it out once she defeated him for good. Unfortunately, Connla was too weakened to hold any sort of conversation with Curruid. Even her normally sharp mind was fading in and out, and her thoughts weren’t making sense anymore.

“Hmph… You’re totally broken, aren’t you?” he murmured. “That’s what happens when you use Gae Bolg without proper training.”

He reached his hand out and gingerly held her cheek.

“But that’s fine. Your legend has been inscribed in the Throne of Heroes. My wish has finally come true.”

Connla hiccupped. She wanted to cry so much, but she didn’t have the energy left. She wanted to say so much to him – that she thought he was a fool, that she loved him so much, that she was sorry for causing him so much anguish - but the words refused to come to her. Her empty brown eyes told him everything though. Her head felt like it had the weight of the world inside it, and she nearly collapsed onto her side. Curruid kept his grip on her cranium and forced her to nudge against him. Even if it was only for a few short minutes, he wanted to hold her close. He was so proud of her that he too couldn’t express it in words. The warmth they provided each other overcame the pain, bloodshed and carnage they had endured until now.

She moaned, “Father… I’m so… tired…”

“I know.”

Connla closed her eyes and nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder, feeling the soft sensation of sleep take her over. Both of their forms began to shine gold and disintegrate. Curruid rubbed his daughter’s head while they faded away, silently urging her to get plenty of rest. He too fell into slumber and saw a brief dream of himself, as his original form Cuchulainn, carrying a content but thoroughly exhausted Connla away to parts unknown.

The False Holy Grail, broken into pieces by Gae Bolg and having no host left to attach itself to, diminished into nothing. The cold energy that surrounded Area 51 gradually vanished, erasing the threat of an arctic Armageddon. The only thing that remained was the True Holy Grail, having been a silent witness to this climactic finale, as it granted Cuchulainn’s wish by etching Connla’s name directly below his upon the Throne of Heroes. Although his method was cruel, his gamble to give her a ‘legend’ that the Throne would recognize her for ultimately worked.

With the Singularity corrected, history began to repair itself. The tragedies that occurred in this divergent world would be overwritten, and life would continue as if nothing happened. Only the two stories attached to Connla’s name would serve as proof of the Singularity’s existence. The first tale was of her origin, entitled _Aided Oenfhir Aife_ (“The Death of Aife’s Only Son”), which didn’t really constitute as a proper legend – just a vignette about how she died and how it affected Cuchulainn enough to cause the Singularity in the first place. The second was of her adventure through this alternate universe that contributed to the Grand Order, which _was_ the legend that would allow a Magus to summon her as their Servant. Naturally, it was given the same title as her Noble Phantasm:

 _Laoch Gan Finsceal._ (“Hero Without Legend”)

* * *

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I know you must think this is the last chapter, but there’s one more to go, then we’re done, guys!


	20. Reunion of the Hounds

**FATE/LAOCH GAN FINSCEAL**

**“Hero Without Legend”**

**Epilogue: Reunion of the Hounds**

_“-ster… Master…?”_

Ritsuka’s eyes twitched, and she slowly opened them. She blankly stared at the white ceiling for a few moments.

“Are you okay?”

She looked over to see the young Lancer sitting on a stool next to her bed. Her light smile was reassuring to Ritsuka, who just went through a series of vivid and violent dreams involving the child Servant. The details weren’t as candid as told throughout this story, but she saw enough of the important parts to make her feel like she had just run a marathon.

“Senpai!” Ritsuka heard Mash’s voice exclaim nearby. “You’re finally up! You’re totally drenched in sweat!”

“That’s…”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Kyrielight,” Lancer implored. “It’s my fault. I showed Master my past through a dream, and it knocked her into a temporary coma.”

“A coma?” the young Magus wondered.

“You were asleep for two whole days,” Mash said as she wiped Ritsuka’s forehead with a damp cloth. “Your vitals were nominal the entire time, but nothing we did could wake you up! I’m so glad you’re okay!”

Lancer looked aside shamefully. She felt responsible for making Mash worry about Ritsuka so much, having failed to anticipate how showing the teenager such a graphic tale would affect her. She stayed quiet and folded her hands in her lap, while Mash helped her exhausted friend sit back up on her bed. The door whirred open, and Dr. Roman entered with a concerned look on his face.

“You’re finally up?” he asked Ritsuka. “The other Servants have been asking me how you’ve been.”

“Oh…”

“Man, that must have been one heck of a dream Lancer showed you. She apologized over and over again for causing this, but she told us that her history was bound to be incredibly violent and difficult for a normal person to bear in just one night. With no way of waking you up though, we agreed to have Lancer extend the dream through multiple days so your mind would remain intact.”

Lancer sighed despondently and said, “I’ve caused so much trouble for everyone. Master and Ms. Kyrielight should be out resolving conflicts, and yet I paralyzed Master’s mind so badly. I should have been more considerate of Chaldea’s situation…”

Ritsuka suddenly put her hand on the girl’s head and rubbed her hair. She smiled and said, “Don’t worry about it. Thanks to that, I have a much better understanding of who you are and how you can help us.”

“That’s right. Senpai’s not the type to get angry over something like this,” Mash added. “Don’t beat yourself up anymore. If Senpai believes it is a good thing, then I will as well.”

“Mm…” Lancer nodded, still feeling unsure.

“Say, Ritsuka,” Roman said, “if you saw so much of Lancer’s past, does that mean you figured out what her True Name is?”

The Magus shook her head. “I’m pretty sure I heard her name called out a couple of times, but it was too hazy for me to pick up.”

“Shucks. Her Identity Concealment must affect her Master as well. As I thought, the only ones privileged to know her name are those who knew her in her lifetime.”

“Well, I wouldn’t get too worked up about it, Doctor. Her dream allowed me to see how she fights, so I’ll make good use of those skills in our upcoming battles. Da Vinci can analyze the data and do some research to see if any Heroic Spirits match her description.”

“Yeah, I know. One step at a time.”

Ritsuka got to her feet, and Mash exclaimed worriedly, “You shouldn’t get up so quickly!”

“Relax! I’m fine! Although…” the Magus muttered as she put her hand over her rumbling belly. “I am kind of hungry.”

“Okay, let’s go have something to eat. The other Servants will want to greet you as well.”

“Sure. After that, we’ll do some more Ember hunting. Of course, I’ll be making Lancer work twice as hard over the next two days to make up for this setback!”

Lancer nodded, relieved to hear that she would be put to work as a proper apology. “I’m looking forward to it!”

* * *

A month later, Ritsuka and Mash returned from another mission via Rayshift and awoke in their pods.

“Phew…” Ritsuka sighed. “I’m exhausted…”

“We’ve been working nonstop these last couple of weeks,” Mash added. “There’s still much for us to do, but it’s important that you get plenty of rest.”

As the pair got back up, the door opened to reveal Lancer approaching with some papers and a tray of beverages. She quietly asked, “Is everything okay?”

“We’re fine,” Mash assured. “But I’m surprised to see you here. Where are Roman and Da Vinci?”

“Hm…” the child looked puzzled. “I’m not really sure. They just shoved all of this onto my hands and told me to stay with you two until they got back.”

“That’s strange. Usually the Doctor is eager to greet us after every mission.”

“He said he had some kind of important news. Could it be another major Singularity they’re keeping an eye on?”

“Maybe,” Ritsuka’s expression became firm. “Let’s go see.”

The trio left her quarters and went around the Chaldea complex looking for Roman and Da Vinci. It took about half an hour of frustrating searching and backtracking, even having to ask other Servants if they saw them, but they finally came upon the two scientists near the mess hall.

“Geez, where the heck were you guys!?” Roman exclaimed. “We looked everywhere for you!”

“That’s our question!” Mash objected. “Lancer told us that you both looked like you were in a hurry! Is it an emergency?”

“No, not a real emergency, per se…”

“Now, now, let me be the one to tell them,” Leonardo Da Vinci, genius gender-swapper and eccentric extraordinaire, cut him off abruptly.

“No way! I was the one who found that document!”

“And who was the one that had to translate it from Gaelic?”

“That’s nothing to you! Do you have any idea how difficult it was to find that ancient scrap in the first place!?”

Mash shouted, “Will you two calm down already!? What in the world is going on here!? Is it bad or good!?”

“Oh, it’s good!” Roman smiled. “Remember how we couldn’t figure out who Lancer was when Ritsuka summoned her? From the clues we gathered about her over the last while, I was able to find a short document from Ireland with details that matched Lancer to a T!”

“Really!? Does that mean you know what her True Name is!?”

“You bet! It’s-!”

“Now hold on! I should be the one to say it!” Da Vinci objected.

“Nope! Lancer’s True Name is-!”

“She is none other than-!”

**_“Connla!?”_ **

Lancer looked over at the source of the new male voice which ceased this silly argument with his resounding surprise. Standing there across the hallway was a familiar ponytailed man dressed in a blue bodysuit. His red eyes were wide and his jaw dropped in astonishment as their gazes met. Lancer – or rather, Connla – accidentally dropped the papers she carried as she stared at the man.

“You’re…” Mash uttered. “You’re Cuchulainn, aren’t you?”

No one paid attention to her. After a moment of gaping stillness, Connla happily shouted, **_“Father!”_**

The two rushed in to give each other a hug. Connla let her emotions run rampant as she cried against Cuchulainn’s shoulder for a few minutes. The others stepped back and silently agreed to leave them alone to their family time. Further down in the hallway, Da Vinci pleasantly grumbled, “Darn it! I was so close to saying it! Why didn’t you tell me that Cuchulainn had been summoned!?”

“Um… Guess I forgot,” Ritsuka sheepishly scratched her chin.

“So who is that Lancer anyway? He said her name was Connla, right?” Mash asked.

“Yeah. She is recorded in those old texts as the son of Cuchulainn and Aife, a warrior woman from Scotland. She was also Scathach’s last known pupil, but her tutelage was a very short one before Connla left for Ireland to confront Cuchulainn in that fated battle.”

“Fated battle?”

“Where he killed her, not knowing she was his child until after Gae Bolg struck her heart.”

“Ah…” Mash’s eyes widened slightly.

Ritsuka wasn’t surprised to hear that. “She showed it to me in those dreams. The grief he felt from making that mistake is what eventually led to the Singularity that she corrected on her own.”

“That’s right,” Roman said. “And now she’s here as a Servant. Or rather, _they’re_ here now, finally side-by-side after Lord knows how long they’ve been apart. Boy, I can’t wait to see how well they’ll fight together! It’ll be like we have two Cuchulainns on our side now!”

“Aside from Caster, Berserker and Prototype?”

“Come on, you know what I mean…”

* * *

Once Connla calmed down enough, she wiped her eyes dry of her excessive tears and hiccupped a few times. Cuchulainn asked, “You okay?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“But this is quite the surprise. How did you wind up being summoned after so long? Did they find a catalyst they could use to call you here?” he wondered, raising his eyebrow in confusion.

“You don’t remember anything?”

“About what?”

“The Nevada Singularity.”

“Huh?”

“Um… Well… I mean, you were the one who…” Connla’s voice trailed a few times.

“Hmm…” he hummed curiously, then put his hand on her shoulder. “I get it. One of my ‘other selves’ must have caused you a lot of trouble in some alternate universe. Cu Alter told me about his hazy memories of how he was a king in some North American mythological war, and Cu Caster was involved in a similar Fuyuki Grail War to the one I was in, but his went way out of control and caused rampant destruction. Even though those were versions of ‘me’, that doesn’t mean that ‘I’ remember anything about what happened in those worlds. My memories are mine, and theirs are their own. Master simply summons those alternate versions as separate Servants. You get what I’m saying?”

The girl looked bewildered. Cuchulainn playfully rubbed her hair and said with a fanged grin, “Guess it’s a little too much for you to comprehend right now. Even I don’t get the details sometimes. But don’t worry; the one and only Cuchulainn you remember from your life is right here in front of you, got it?”

She nodded lightly.

“Good! Don’t be too upset by whatever happened to you before. We’re here, and that’s all that matters.”

“Okay,” she replied, then took off her right glove and said, “By the way, I wanted to show you this.”

She let him see the gold and red-patterned ring on her right thumb. He smirked and exclaimed, “So you’re keeping the promise I left for you? Good girl!”

Connla took Cuchulainn’s hand and made her long-awaited apology to him:

“I’m sorry for being so late. I’m finally here, Father.”

* * *

AUTHOR’S NOTE: To those who have made it through yet another one of my patented lengthy stories, congratulations and thank you for reading! I want to extend my thanks to Nasu Kinoko for creating the original Fate/Stay Night series, Delight Works for producing Fate/Grand Order, and various online resources such as Wikipedia, the FGO Wikia, and fansites for compiling many terms and characters that I needed to research. I want to thank the people I asked for input while I wrote this. And, last but not least, I want to thank anyone who has taken the time to read this story. Whether it was just one chapter or the whole thing, I appreciate the time you spent reading my personal take on the Fate universe.

I have some interest in pursuing new stories of Connla interacting with other Servants, but I would like to take a break from writing until around NaNoWriMo 2018. For the meantime, let me know if you’re interested in seeing Connla meet a particular Servant in a future story. I should get caught up on my other fics as well! Sorry to everyone waiting on my Ace Attorney story! Dx

If you have any comments, suggestions or questions, feel free to send a private message to me, a review for the story, or send me a tweet @benit149 (more likely to see it that way). See you in the next story!

\- Benit149, 2018


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